


Not the Last Time

by carpelucem



Category: Adele (Musician), American Idol RPF, David Cook (Musician)
Genre: F/M, Het, RPF, Thanksgiving fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 16:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpelucem/pseuds/carpelucem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Once he stops fanboying her music and she gets over teasing him for singing her song better than she does, they fall into a healthy rapport that leaves Dave feeling like he’s known her for years.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Adele and Dave meet at a photoshoot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the Last Time

**Author's Note:**

> Just a few notes - before Adele cancelled her fall tour in 2011, before she had a baby and a partner, before Neal left the band, before DC announced he was going to Kansas City for Thanksgiving in 2011, this was written. The rest is just coincidence.  
> (And siblings/family includes halves and steps. They refer to them as such, so do I.)  
> Traditional disclaimers apply and thank you so much for reading!!

They meet at a photo shoot, something for Vanity Fair about the top thirty under thirty in entertainment, or some such nonsense. Adele arrives on set fully made-up, her schedule full full full for the week she’s in LA, she’d just done a piece for Ellen and an interview for Entertainment Weekly. He’s awed by her hair in her person, the way it starts high and then tumbles down her back. It’s kind of Brigitte Bardot, if she’d been more dry London wit than saucy French charm. 

Lauren Dukoff shot both their album covers and she’s doing this too, so they’re paired up for this feature. Between setups, Dave and Adele are sitting out back near the fog hovering above the smokers. 

“I can’t smoke anymore, but fuck all, I miss it. Guess there’s one reason to be thankful for your violent Yank anti-smoking laws, jail time wards off the need.”

“My roommate smokes, it still kills me, every time.” 

Her little dog jumps up and down while they talk, he reminds Dave of Dublin, with his boundless energy and constant need for affection. Andy and Jennie will freak out when Dave tells them she has a dachshund, too. Dave likes watching her lavish the dog (“Louie,” she tells him, “cause the little bugger bays along to Louis Armstrong records.”) with kisses and rubs, baby talk to it in ways that only other pet owners wouldn’t find inane. Dave’s always thought animal people were good people.

She jokes with Lauren, asking her if the rest of her body or just her face is going to be in the shot, and Dave laughs. The woman’s got balls. She acts so much older than her age; it’s jarring to him that she’s only twenty-two, barely older than Archie. 

Adele is so much funnier than he’s been expecting, her music and interviews are always melancholy heartbreak and loss. She reminds him of Neal, the way she dissects everything with bone-dry humor instead of tact and swears like a sailor. Once he stops fanboying her music and she gets over teasing him for singing her song better than she does, they fall into a healthy rapport that leaves Dave feeling like he’s known her for years.

\--

When Dave sees the pictures a few weeks later, he’s blown away by how they turned out. They look…hot together. Moody and mysterious, in a way that usually comes off creepy for him but kind of works with Adele’s smoky, pouty gaze. He leaves the image up on his screen for a little too long, until Kyle looks over his shoulder, gives him shit because Mila Kunis was there the same day and he wants to know why Dave wasn’t paired with her. Dave kind of wants to punch him when he makes a fat girl joke.

Andy changes the subject quickly, telling Dave they look awesome before asking Neal about the set list for the weekend’s show. He shrugs a little, gives Dave a wink when Dave catches his eye, it’s just one of the things friends do for each other without asking. 

Dave thinks it must be one of those stupid rules of the Hollywood game that he’s allowed to admire the woman for her talent and her voice and her wit, but he’s not allowed to find her attractive, at least past her face, like the rest of the world.

It’s sort of fucked up, really.

\--

They’re both filming something the same day at Universal. Dave sees Louie running around the grassy area in the middle of the lot, playing with a knot of something, and he calls out to him. The little dog looks up, bounds across the open space, jumps around Dave’s leg in excitement. 

“Louie Armstrong Adkins, get your bony arse back here.”

Dave shades his eyes, scans the lot for the owner of the crisply accented voice. He spots her in the shade of one of the buildings, behind an enormous pair of sunglasses, fanning herself with a copy of Variety. 

He scoops up the dog and strides over to her. “Sorry ma’am, all dogs have to be on a leash. Company policy.” 

“Funny, you.” Adele cracks and leans over to plant a kiss on Louie’s smooth fur. The dog starts to wriggle in Dave’s arms and he sets him down on the pavement. “I’d scream bloody murder if anyone else got near my dog, you know that right?” 

“Shit, with your pipes, I wouldn’t stand a chance of escape.” 

She’s got her sleeves pushed up, wrists laden with bracelets. She’s also the only person in a sweater in August in the whole of southern California, and Dave wants to corral her back into the heavily air conditioned studios and plant her in front of a fan. 

“Aren’t you hot?” he asks, wondering if he has the clout to flag someone down and ask for bottles of water. 

“You’re the bloke, you tell me,” Adele quips back and Dave can’t help but laugh. 

“Touché, madame.” 

“I’m broiling like Sunday roast. How the fuck do you stand it here, all the bloody sunshine all the goddamned time? It drives me insane.” 

Dave shrugs and leans back against the wall with her. Golf carts whiz by, carrying PAs laden down with trays of coffee, cellphones glued to their ears. “Beats the snow, I guess.”

“I miss the rain,” she starts, but someone’s come out of the warehouse behind them, looking both panicked and relieved when they spot Adele standing there. 

“There’s my cue.” She tilts her head, bats her impossibly long lashes at him over the lenses of her sunglasses, and blows him a kiss before hooking her fingers in her mouth and giving Louie a sharp  
whistle. The baseball player in Dave is impressed. He’s always sucked at whistling.

“We have to stop meeting like this, David,” she tosses over her shoulder after scooping the dachshund up against her chest. 

Four hours later, Dave’s stuck in traffic on the 101 before he realizes he should have given her his number. 

\--

He’s leaving for Missouri tomorrow afternoon for Thanksgiving, a week long break after two solid months of touring. Dave hasn’t started packing, is sitting on the couch watching tivoed South Park episodes when his phone rings. 

Not recognizing the number, Dave lets it go to voicemail. It beeps a minute later and against his better judgment, Dave keys into the system, thinking it might be a last-minute work call. 

“Hello? Bloody fuck I hate these answerphones. I never know when to start. Beep, tone, voice? Shit. Anyways. It’s me. Ah fuck, it's Adele. Don’t ask how I got your number; I might have to kill you.” Her laugh is throaty and raw and familiar and Dave’s happier than maybe he’d like to admit to hear from her. “I’m at some posh hotel in bloody Beverly Hills, I hate it here, everything’s stark and white and I feel like I’m going to get the seats dirty if I sit on them. I didn’t know if you were in town, they tell me it’s your English liberation holiday, but I’m dying for a proper drink and I can’t drive for shit here – anywhere, really - and the bars here only have martinis and I want a goddamn pint. Anyways. Call me back, this is my mobile.” 

Dave’s laugh is so loud; it pulls Andrew out of his room. He ambles into the den in gym shorts and a ratty tshirt, playing with his iPod.

“Don’t delete that episode, I was saving it,” Andrew starts but Dave just gets off the couch and tosses him the remote. 

“Have at it, I’m going out.” 

“Great, I’m starving and _someone_ didn’t go to the grocery store.” 

“Didn’t go to the store because we’re leaving tomorrow.” Dave brushes past Andrew and waves his hand over his shoulder. “You can fend for yourself, bro.”

\--

An hour later, once Dave’s pinned down exactly which hotel Adele’s in, she has to call down to reception to give him directions because it’s one of those new trendy boutique places where they don’t print the name on anything and he can’t find it on his GPS. After circling the block twice, he finally meets her in the parking garage. 

“Very 007 of you, Mr. Cook, sneaking in to retrieve me in the dead of the…afternoon.” 

Dave notices she looks tired, swathed in a giant scarf and billowy coat. 

“How do darts and beer in a dive bar sound?” 

She leans her head back against the seat and unfurls the topknot in her hair, closes her eyes, exhales deeply. “God, anyone else I’d offer a blowjob in return for that, but you don’t seem the type.” 

“Hey, how do you know that? Damn.” Dave thumps his chest with his fist. “Right through the heart. Ouch.” 

"So you would accept blowjobs in return for driving me around? Well, I've fucked that up properly, haven't I?" She looks over in the dim light and laughs. “I meant you’re just too nice. You’re one of the only decent people I’ve met here.” 

“Ugh, I get that line every time.” Dave wrinkles his nose in distaste and pulls out of the lot. “I’m not that nice a guy. You haven’t seen me after a couple drinks.”

Adele laughs and draws one of her legs up under her. “David, I bet you couldn’t shock me if you tried. You’ve got Prince Charming written all over your sweet American face. I mean, you drove all the way down here to squire me about town when you surely have better things to do.” 

Dave doesn't know whether he should be offended or flattered as he negotiates his way through the late afternoon traffic, headed back to his neighborhood bar, the one where they all go after long days in the studio. It’s usually populated with old tour techs and retirees and the occasional hipster kids who couldn’t care less about people on sellout talent tv shows. When Adele flashes him a smile and settles into a comfortable stream of conversation, he goes with flattered. 

Besides, nice guys don’t always have to finish last.

\--

They settle into a table in the corner, without so much as a head turning in their direction once they walk in. Dave waves to the single waitress and she sidles over, shorts a little too short and hair a little too big, accent a little too southern for a local. She always works the late afternoon/early evening shift and she’s particularly taken with Neal’s easy charm. Neal likes her because she wears Saints jerseys on game days and has a Motley Crue tattoo on her ankle. Dave likes her bullshit detector and how she’s always friendly but not overly familiar.

“Hey darlin’, haven’t seen you in a while. What can I get you?”

Dave leans back in his chair, motions to Adele so she can give her order. 

“Strongbow and a shot of Jameson,” she shoots off, without a moment’s hesitation. 

The waitress looks at him and Dave kind of sputters. It’s going to be _that_ kind of night. “Same, I guess. Except make mine Stella. And pretzels, please.” 

Adele laughs when the waitress walks back to the bar. “It’s the first time I haven’t needed to show ID when ordering a drink here. I'll have to come out with you more often.” She unwinds her scarf and shrugs out of her coat. Dave notices she's not wearing one of her usual vintage swingy dress things that cover her from her shoulders to knees; she’s just in normal clothes. It's kind of nice, not like she's hiding under layers of protective armor. Adele looks like one of the girls he went to school with, maybe out for a drink after a study group. 

It weirds him out again to realize she's still young enough to be _in_ college.

“So talk to me, Miss Adkins. Tell me what’s got you all twisted up today.”

She huffs a little and gives him a pointed glance. “My mum is Miss Adkins, thank you very much.” 

“Okay, then talk to me, Adele.” 

Her cheeks go slightly pink when he says her name like that, pronounced and drawn out. Dave makes a mental note to try it again, because flustered is a good look on her.

“I don’t know, Daaavid.” She does the same thing to him and Dave really likes the way his name sounds on her lips. “What do you want to know?” 

Dave says thanks to the waitress when she puts their drinks down, returns her smile. When she walks away, Dave leans in. “There is one thing I was wondering.” Dave motions to the glasses in front of them. “We might need to drink first, though.” 

Adele quirks an eyebrow at him, but reaches for her drink anyway. “I’m not a shot girl, usually; I’m a total bloody lightweight. I’ll be calling everyone in my mobile, totally pissed after two of these, but God, it sounds good today.”

“What should we drink to?” Dave lifts the shot of amber liquid towards her. “Health? Success? You tell me.”

Her mouth tilts up at the corner and Dave likes it when she smiles. He’s learning quickly he likes an awful lot about this girl. Her answer surprises him. 

“How about to us?” 

Dave swallows hard, but nods right on cue. “That’s definitely worth a toast.” He clinks his glass with hers, locking eyes as she tilts her shot back. He follows her, the alcohol fiery and strong as it slides down his throat, searing all the way down to his belly. Adele screws her face up in a grimace when the sharp liquor hits her tongue. 

“Shit, that’s vile. Why did I do that?” She swipes her hand across the back of her mouth and reaches for her cider. “Fuck. Do _not_ let me do that again.” After a long gulp from her pint glass, Adele points to him. “If I end up draped across the loo tomorrow, it’s entirely your fault.” 

Dave laughs and crunches down on a pretzel. “Blame me all you want, I tried to warn you that I’m a terrible influence.” 

“I told you before, I seriously doubt that.” She winds her hair back up, twisting it into a knot at the back of her head and tying it off with the band around her wrist. 

“I thought we were letting our hair down here, not putting it up.”

“Putting it up has nothing to do with whether I can let it down or not.” Adele rolls her eyes and plucks a pretzel from the basket. “Besides, it gets in my drink. You try swilling hair sometime.” 

Dave ruffles a hand through the messy fringe at the top of his forehead. “Gotta trust you on that. I’m what my brother so charmingly calls ‘the poster child for Rogaine’.”

“Aww, poor boy. You’re welcome to some of mine.” She reaches across the table and combs her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, laughing lightly at that assessment. Her hand lingers just a moment too long and then she pulls back, quickly changing the subject. “So, you wanted to ask me something?” 

Dave coughs and covers it up with a drink from his glass. “I did, in fact, have something I wanted to ask you.” 

After swallowing the pretzel in her mouth, she urges him on with her hand. “And that would be?” 

Dave leans in close, beckons her in with a crook of his finger. “Top secret. You have to come here for this one.” When Adele nears, Dave tilts his head down, bold after the shot of whiskey’s taken hold. His lips almost brush her skin and he gets a whiff of her perfume, how she smells citrusy and clean. Dave tries to ignore the little shudder that works through her when his breath rolls over her neck. He greedily wants to curl one of the runaway strands of her hair around his finger, wants to see if it’s as soft as it looks. 

“I haven’t got all day, you know.” Her tart tongue matches her fragrance and Dave clears his throat.

“Tell me then.” Dave pauses for dramatic effect. “I’m dying to know.” He hears her breath catch in her throat. “Where do you keep your Grammys?” 

Adele’s fist lands square on his bicep, fast and sure. “You prick; I thought you were going to ask me something good!” She pummels him again. “Asshole.

“What? I want to know.” 

“Fuck off, I’m not telling you that. That’s personal.” She smiles at him though, taking another sip of her drink. 

“Please?” Dave tries the look that always works on his mom, the one that cajoles her to bend to his way of thinking. Adele isn’t swayed. 

“You’ll just have to come see for yourself.”

He’s duly impressed.

\--

They have another glass each, talk a little more about nothing and life on the road when Adele blurts out of nowhere, “Ugh. I can’t bear the thought of that hotel room, it’s dismal. You should see it, it looks like a hospital.” 

Dave knows the feeling, hates that hollow emptiness. It’s one of the things he loves about his band, always having people around him to keep that at bay.

“Has anyone invited you over for Thanksgiving? I mean, it goes against our tradition and all, extending hospitality to an English girl on our holiday celebrating our escape from your mindless tyranny.” Her palm thuds against his shoulder and rests there for a moment. Dave continues, sneaking glances at her face in between tearing his napkin into tiny squares. “But it’s going to be a ghost town here on Thursday, unless you have something to do.” 

She leans back in her chair, shrugs a shoulder. “I’ll probably just order room service in my sanitary cube and watch telly. There’s bound to be a marathon of Basketball Wives or something on and then I’ll fly to Chicago on Friday night.” 

“Ugh, really?” Dave winces. “Didn’t they tell you it’s against the law to spend Thanksgiving alone?” He surprises even himself when the offer comes from his mouth. “Come to Missouri with me.” Trying it on for size, Dave likes the way the words and all they imply fit him. 

Almost before he’s finished, Adele is already shaking her head. 

“No, never. That would be awful, I’d be a right mess, and you can’t spring some stranger on your family during a holiday, that’s against the laws of nature.” 

Dave’s already made up his mind, he’s not taking no for an answer. He’d like to introduce her to his family, he’s certain his mom and sister and cousins would love to have another woman to even the ranks, and Dave knows that they would embrace her into the fold immediately. 

“What’s terrible is the thought of you spending all day Thursday in your pajamas, cooped up in a hotel room.” 

Actually, that thought isn’t so terrible, not the pjs in a hotel room bit anyways. Dave quite likes that image, Adele’s hair tied back and thick socks on her feet, wound up in a blanket. It’s almost enough to get him to reconsider. 

Screw Kansas City, he thinks for a moment. Then, his common sense kicks in. ‘No,’ Dave tells himself. ‘Focus.’ The thought of her alone on a day of family and food and football part is what he objects to. 

“I like my pajamas, thank you. Doesn’t sleep sound glorious?” Adele switches to Coke when the waitress sidles over. 

“If you come to Missouri, I promise you’ll sleep. Haven’t you heard about what turkey does to you? We have designated naptimes, right before football starts.” 

“Really, I couldn’t,” she starts, but that impulsive, bossy, selfish need inside of Dave won’t be quelled. 

“I’m afraid I can’t let you refuse.” He puts his hand over his heart. “I’d be a bad American. Do you really want that on your conscience?” 

She sits there for a moment, so still, Dave’s sure she’ll say no. Then a hint of a smile breaks through. 

“Fuck music, take up films, you’re so bloody dramatic.” Adele nods quickly, decisively. “Okay, I’ll come. But if your family hates me, I’m blaming you.” 

“I am completely okay with that.” Dave exhales with a grin. “It’ll be fun, I promise. We’re rowdy, but in a good way.” 

“That doesn’t surprise me, somehow.” Adele suddenly buries her face in her hands. “Shit, all the stuff I have to pack. And I have to change my flights. Oh God, there’s bound to be nothing open if it’s a holiday. And I have to cancel my spa booking; I was getting a massage tomorrow.” 

Dave flexes his hands. “I’m good at rubdowns. I’ve got you covered.” Her eyebrow arches and he feels like a little kid when a blush creeps into his cheeks. “I mean. Hell. Never mind” 

She motions for the waitress. “We’d better get a move on, God; I have so much I have to take.” Adele stops mid-stream and looks him in the eye. “Jesus, is it cold there?” 

“Depends on the year. I think it should be about 55 right now – above freezing, warmer than Chicago, anyways.” He leans across the table. “Hey. You sure I didn’t bully you into this?” 

“Really, David? Would it matter if you had?” 

Touché. 

\--

She bats his hand away when Dave tries to pay for their drinks. 

“It’s the gentlemanly thing to do,” he protests. 

Her credit card is on the tray before he can get his wallet out of his jeans. She flicks her tumbled hair over her shoulder. “I dragged you out to get me. Stop complaining and say thank you.” 

“Thank you,” he replies, chastened. Yeah, fitting in with his family won’t be the problem. They’ll absorb her like they’ve always known her. The clan of them letting her leave might be the bigger issue. 

After signing the receipt with a flourish, she looks up at him. “Ready?” 

Dave’s up in an instant and holds her coat while she slides her arms into the sleeves. “Come on, Miss Adkins, you can call the airline from the car.” 

She groans as they walk out, but slips her arm companionably through his. “What did I tell you about calling me that?” 

“But I’m not thinking of your mom when I say it.” Dave clicks the key fob and opens the passenger side for her. He waits until her seatbelt buckles before shutting the door. 

“I told you, Prince Charming,” she quips as he gets in.

He rolls his eyes as they back out of the tight space. Normally the thought of another drive to Beverly Hills and then back to his house would flatten his pre-vacation buzz, but Adele is wickedly funny and fills the endless stop and go traffic telling him about the mishaps of navigating the whole celebrity game. Hearing her describe the time she harassed Jennifer Aniston in a ladies room has tears rolling down his cheeks and her doubled over on the passenger seat, wheezing. 

“I actually called her Rachel. Through the crack in the stalls. As she was weeing next to me. What the fuck?” Wiping her face with her sweater sleeve, Adele takes a deep, steadying breath. “Oh God, I’m such a mess.”

Dave looks over at her after pulling up to a stoplight off the freeway, cheeks flushed and smiling, and he totally disagrees with her. Wisely, he keeps it to himself. 

“At least you didn’t mistake her for someone else, that’s even worse, right?”

“Or fumble for her name. Do people do that to you too? I always get ‘God, you look like – whatshername?’ Or they just look at me too long, like my name will suddenly pop up above my head in bright flashing lights. I want to tell them they look like tossers.” 

Dave laughs; he knows exactly what she means. “But God forbid we piss off our fans, right? At least you don’t have the ones who voted for you, they think they own part of your success, like you didn’t fight tooth and nail to get exactly where you are.”

“Bitter much?” she jokes, but the look on her face is full of understanding. And Dave feels a brief flicker of guilt for trashing the people who buy his records and come to his shows, but fuck, sometimes it would be great if they’d just let him be for five seconds and not have to know every detail of his life.

“Just that they think they have a say in my life. The music, ok, they can have it. But my personal life is no one’s business. I mean, don’t you get sick of answering some nosy asshole reporter’s questions about your love life?” 

Adele just raises a neatly arched brow and tries not to laugh. “Have you even listened to my record? I don’t need to answer anyone’s questions; it’s all there for the world to hear for themselves.” She shrugs. “But yeah, I get what you mean. I’m rehashing that shit every time I do a piece for a magazine, and it’s like I’m supposed to forget it happened to me, like it’s someone else’s heart that was trampled and the songs belong to someone else.” 

“Catch-22.” Dave almost misses their turn and squeaks past a giant white Suburban into the left lane. “You make decent stuff, write what you know, and you have to relive those feelings every night. The pain, the low, it almost becomes a high after a while.”

“So we’re all either amazing at coping with the bullshit in our lives, or we’re total masochists.”

He shoots her a smile. “Maybe a little of both.” Dave pulls into the parking garage and finds a spot near the door leading into the hotel. 

As he turns the car off, he looks over. “Do you want some help?” He rubs a hand through his hair. “Or is that awkward? I’m not really convincing you spending time with me is the best idea, am I?”

Adele’s hand covers Dave’s, pulls it off the back of his neck. “What, inviting yourself up to my hotel room while I’m alone, watching me go through all my knickers? Not creepy at all.” Her teeth play at the corner of her mouth, trying to contain a burst of laughter. “Really, I don’t care if you want to stay here. You’re the one who’d be splashed all over the papers if someone found out.” She leans over the center console, so close their noses almost touch. “Can you handle that, Mr. Cook?” 

Her voice, crisply enunciating each and every word, is more of a turn on than Dave’s expecting, smoky and playful and low in the dim light of the parking garage. Dave doesn’t know if that’s the intent though, if she’s fucking with him or just playing into their repartee from earlier, or if all of this banter and tension has suddenly hit boiling point for her, too. He’s deeply conscious that his breath has stopped up, forming a sticky knot in his chest, that if he tries to speak, it won’t come out human. It punches him right under his ribs, this flood of awareness that he finally recognizes has been tickling at the edge of his sub-conscious for months. 

Adele’s eyes glitter a little, bright and bold from the courage of the booze, and Dave can swear she senses the change in his thoughts instantly. He tries to wipe the slate of his mind clean, so that she can’t read how intently he’s focusing on not nudging his chin forward an inch or two until her lips press against his, soft and warm and pliant.

She backs up with a sudden sharp intake of breath, shakes her head. Adele smoothes her hands over her thighs, flexing her long fingers back and forth, so they scratch lightly against the denim. 

“You know, probably best to just run up and sort it out myself. I’ll be back in a half hour, tops.” Adele looks shaken, a little dazed. “Is that ok?”

He nods dumbly when she gets out of the car. Dave is sure as she shuts the door with a gentle click and waves, that he’s going to get a text message in the next five minutes telling him that she’s changed her mind and can’t go.

The dread that accompanies that thought is stronger than he thinks it ought to be. 

\--

Dave spends twenty minutes trying not to imagine wrapping himself around her in the room upstairs, ignoring the steady thrum of want pounding through his veins. He texts Andy and his brother and Monty, trying to extinguish the thought of what Adele looks like first thing in the morning, desperately thinking of anything but her voice sounding as whiskey-rough when she wakes up as it is after she’s been talking all day. 

His phone beeps at him while he’s browsing NFL blogs, and it simply says ‘ _be with you in a tick, just checking out now. ALA x_ ’

He exhales a sigh of relief he didn’t know was lurking in his chest. Dave watches the sliding door to the hotel lobby like a hawk and when Adele steps through, he’s out of his car, taking her suitcases and the garment bag from her hands. 

“Gotta say, I’m impressed. It takes my guitar player an hour to get all his shit together from our dressing room after a show, much less a hotel.” Dave pops the trunk and arranges the bags carefully, laying the garment bag on top.

“I’m a pro,” Adele tosses back lightly, once Dave joins her in the car. “I barely had time to unpack, anyhow. And without Louie, I have half the gear.” 

“Smaller the dog, the more crap you have to lug around for them.” 

Adele pokes him in the arm with her fingernail. “Exactly!” As they pull back out into the waning twilight, she looks over to Dave. “So, do I finally get to meet your dog?” 

“Sure thing,” he answers, maneuvering the car back through the evening traffic. “I’ll drop him off at Andy’s tomorrow, before we leave.” As her face is thrown into silhouette by the passing headlights, Dave smiles. “I think he’s going to like you.”

“He likes you, doesn’t he? I can’t argue with his taste.” Adele turns and he catches her profile in the corner of his eye. “What’s his name again?” 

“Dublin.” 

“Dublin.” Dave thinks it sounds nice coming from her mouth. “So, is it too much trouble to take him to your mum’s?” 

“He’s a needy little bugger. We tried having him on tour last time, and he cost me almost two grand in damages. Jennie spoils him rotten, he likes playing with Amos, and they run around like kings together. Besides, I don’t look as fetching as you probably do with a dog purse on my arm.”

“Bollocks.” Adele reaches out, touches his forearm, and drags her fingernails across his sleeve. “I’m sure they make some kind of rugged knapsack out of canvas or something for manly men like you.” They’re both laughing when he agrees that if she can find it for him; he’ll give one a try.

“Mission accepted,” she says.

Dave’s surprised they get back to the house so quickly. After pulling her luggage out of the trunk, he leads Adele in through the front door instead of the garage. He’s not trying to impress her, more than likely Andrew’s doing his last minute loads of boxers and socks and Dave doesn’t want to knock Adele over with the smell of dirty laundry. He’s pretty sure the front room and hall are at least passably clean.

Dublin skitters towards them as soon as he hears keys in the door. He immediately jumps up around Dave’s legs, yelping and whimpering for affection. 

“Dude, calm down, give me a sec, we have a guest.” Dave scoops the little dog up though, gives him a rub under the chin. Turning around, he proffers Dublin’s furry paw. “Dublin, this is Miss Adele. Adele, this is my main man, Dubs.” 

Adele clasps Dublin’s paw in her hand and scratches up under his belly with her other hand. He immediately rolls and squirms in Dave’s arms, showing off his shiny undercoat. 

“Who’s a good boy? Do you like tummy rubs? Louie would just love you, yes he would. You’d be mates in no time.” Dublin strains closer to Adele, worming out of Dave’s grasp and nosing under her hand. 

“Careful dude, I don’t think she wants dog hair all over her sweater.” 

Adele just shakes her head. “Nonsense, not at all. This jumper’s rubbish anyhow, he can cover me in dog hair, I don’t mind, do I?” She tosses Dave a glance, seeking his permission to hold his dog (he loves that, loves that she gets that Dublin’s his baby). Dave gives her a nod of approval, and Adele pulls Dublin into her grasp. He snuggles up against her. She cradles him in her arms and his tongue lolls out contentedly. 

“Dave, you home?” Andrew’s voice comes from upstairs and then he’s thundering down, stopping to a halt when he sees they’re not alone in the house. “Oh. Hey.” Andrew just lifts an eyebrow in question to Dave before thrusting out his hand. “I’m Andrew, I live here too.” 

Adele adjusts Dublin in her arms and extracts a hand. “Sorry, hi, I’m Adele, it’s a pleasure.” She smiles one of her bright, engaging smiles, and Dave can see it work on his little brother in a second, erasing any furrows of confusion between his brows. Recognition dawns and suddenly, Andrew’s all talk.

“Oh, _hi_. Hey, it’s great to meet you. Wow. You’re incredible. I love your record.”

Her laughter is loud and jubilant. “Thank you so much, that’s so sweet, I really appreciate that.” Dave thinks that’s a line Adele probably says a lot, but it still rings true with sincerity as she says it to his little brother. She’s won over Andrew in a minute, all the while holding Dave’s dog like a newborn baby in the foyer of his house. 

If charming the Cook men was a marketable skill, Adele would be rolling in it.

“So, are you guys working together?” Andrew asks, after Dublin squirms and wiggles to get out of Adele’s arms. Without something to do with her hands, Adele reaches back for her suitcase, securing her hand firmly around the rolling handle.

“I invited Adele to Mom’s for Thanksgiving.” Dave looks over, and her shy smile is encouraging to him. “She was going to be hanging solo in LA until Friday, so I conned her into flying to Missouri and going to Chicago from there on Saturday.” Dave claps his hands together. “Which reminds me; we never called the airline to get your flights settled. You want to put your stuff away first?” He automatically reaches for the large suitcase, with the hanging bag draped over the top. “Your room is upstairs, I’ll have to put sheets on the bed, and then we can fire up the laptop and get going.”

“Ok. Whatever you think is best.” Adele pulls her small suitcase behind her, the wheels clicking on the tiles. “I really don’t want to be too much trouble,” she adds after they head up the staircase. 

Dave turns, stops in the middle of the upstairs hallway. “You aren’t any trouble at all. Stop saying that.”

“Oh, I’m trouble all right, just you wait,” she quips, and he smiles as they get to the guest room.

When he opens the door, Dave finds the bed already made. He breathes a sigh of thanks to his mom; she must have done that the last time they visited. “Not to be rude, but how many bedrooms are there?” Adele inquires. “Are there just the two of you?”

“Now there are.” Dave flicks on the light to the guest bathroom and pulls towels out of the cabinet for her. “My band mate lived with us, until he moved in with his girlfriend, Andrew’s up here, and I’m down the hall. Neal’s room is downstairs and it’s bigger than this one, but it still isn’t fumigated yet, so you can stay in here.” 

“You Americans and your flash houses,” she comments with a teasing lilt to her voice before sinking down onto the end of the bed. “Four bedrooms. For two people.” 

“Hey, you never know when you’re going to con people into staying over, now do you? Gotta keep up my sterling Prince Charming reputation, you know.” 

Adele clasps her hands in her lap and nods. “Of course. We wouldn’t want to tarnish your crown.”

Dave feels that same prickle of heat as earlier start at the back of his neck. He clears his throat and points to the bathroom. “There’s your bathroom, you don’t have to share with any of us. If you need anything else, just holler. I’ll let you get settled and then you can head down whenever you like.” 

“Thanks,” Adele calls after Dave, and he turns at the doorway, to see her watching him with an intent, curious look on her face. “For everything. I still feel like this is all just a huge inconvenience, but I really appreciate it. You’re a good man, David.” 

Dave doesn’t know what to say, the words stick in his throat. He feels flushed and embarrassed because he’s really being terribly selfish, he just wants her with him, wants Adele to come home to Missouri with him and meet his family. Dave doesn’t feel like he’s being particularly good about anything, he’s just being greedy. Dave’s also not some noble gentleman like Adele’s seemed to paint him in her mind. If he’s being honest with himself, he’d really like to just cross back over to her, sink down to his knees and pull her lips to his and drown for a little while in her mouth, memorizing her taste and the feel of her against him.

He opens his mouth to speak, but “you’re welcome,” is all he ekes out before pushing himself out the door and back downstairs.

Yeah, it’s going to be a long weekend.

\--

Downstairs, Dave pulls his laptop off the coffee table and settles it on his knees. Andrew plops down on the couch by his side. 

“Quick, what’s the deal with you and Bridget Jones?”

Dave simply shoots his brother a warning look as he logs onto Delta’s website. “Are you packed yet?”

“Dude, I have a closet full of clothes at the house. Just tell me what’s going on. I didn’t even know you two were friends.”

“We are. That’s all you need to know.” He gives a little crow of triumph when he sees that there are still seats available on both the flights he and Andrew are booked on the next day. 

“What are you two cheering about?” Adele stands in the doorway, framed by the light from the hall. 

“My nosy little brother was just off to finish packing his delicates and I was checking on flights.” Dave motions her over and she sits down in the spot Andrew just vacated. “Which airline were you flying to Chicago?” 

“Ugh, Delta. The label loves them. They’re fucking terrible.” 

“Right? They busted one of my guitars when I flew to London.” He scoots the laptop over, so she can see the screen. “However, they do have two available seats tomorrow on the flights we need.” 

“Guess we should be thankful for something.” Her mouth twists into a wry smile. “That’s what your colonial holiday’s all about, right?” 

“You’re killing me, Adkins.” Dave returns her smile, though, and hands the computer over. “If you want to log in, we can book them and then you can call your travel agent tomorrow about switching your other flight from KC, instead of LA.” 

She looks at him, with fingers poised cautiously over the keyboard. 

“What? Bad plan?” he asks.

“I don’t know my membership number, I never book my flights.” 

“Whaaaat?” Dave edges his wallet out of his pocket. Withdrawing his Sky Miles card out of the sleeve, he hands it to her. “Do you have one of these?” 

“No.” 

Pulling the laptop back, Dave logs back in. He glances over the top. “Then is that plan ok?” 

“Flying to Missouri and then up to Chicago? It sounds good to me.” 

Within a few clicks, he’s entered her information and the ticket’s been purchased. “What’s your email?” 

“Why?” she asks, but relays it to him.

“Because I need to email you your confirmation.” 

Adele pulls the computer back. “What are you talking about?”

Dave shrugs. “I just bought your tickets?” 

Her mouth drops open and she scans the screen. “Fuck off, David Cook. You did not.”

He shoots her a satisfied look. “Yeah, I did.” Dave has to squash a yelp when she jabs him in the side.

“I have a credit card, you pretentious asshole, I just don’t have a frequent flyer business VIP voucher or whatever that is.” She looks up at him. “How do I reverse this?” 

“They’re non-refundable. You can’t.” 

“I hate literally everything about you right now.”

“Tsk tsk. Maybe you should just be thankful that my colonial ass has enough frequent flyer miles to circle the globe about a dozen times and deal with it.”

Adele looks back to the screen and then up at him. “Why am I coming back here?” 

Dave shrugs a little, scrapes his thumb across a little tear in his favorite jeans. “I didn’t know where you were going next. It needed a round trip destination and I checked your tour schedule, it says you’re back in California next week.”

“Taking care of everything, aren’t we Mr. Fix-It?” She looks at him, that long intense stare that leaves Dave feeling naked in her presence. He wants to shift his arms so they cover all the exposed flesh he’s not baring. It’s disarming, but he likes the honesty, the way she doesn’t hide, and the feeling he gets that he couldn’t bullshit Adele even if he wasn’t the world’s least convincing liar.

“So. I guess I should pack.” Dave’s stomach grumbles in protest as he shuts the laptop off. Adele reaches over, places her palm against his forehead.

“Sounds like the Alien. Are you sick? You sure your stomach’s not going to mutiny when you go upstairs?”

He tries not to lean into her touch, so instead Dave backs away while he looks down at his watch, then at her. “Are you hungry?”

She gets off the couch, stretches her arms over her head. “I don’t know, those pretzels at the pub were pretty filling.” Tossing a grin over her shoulder, she shrugs. “My A&R guy made the mistake of taking me to In’n’Out last time I was here, now I have to go every time I’m in LA.”

“Oh God, it’s an addiction. Did you know they have a 12-step?”

Adele’s eyes light up. “Don’t give me their number, I love it too much, I don’t ever want to quit. So, you reckon we should go? I’ll buy if you drive.” 

“I heard that!” Andrew pops his head in the living room, nearly obscured by a folded stack of tshirts. “If you’re getting food, will you bring me something?”

“Adele says we’re going to In’n’Out,” Dave starts to answer but Adele cuts him off, walking over to the doorway and perusing Andrew carefully.

“You look like a double double man.”

Andrew preens a little under her smile. “How did you know?”

She leans in close. “It’s my hidden talent. I only have one, so don’t give it away.”

“Secret’s safe.” Andrew tries to hide his grin; the same one Dave knows he’s got spreading across his own face. “Can you get it with no mustard, extra grilled onions, and Dr Pepper?”

“I think we can manage.” She looks over at Dave. “Can we remember that?”

“Marco’s going to kill me,” is all Dave mutters as they leave the house. Adele just pats his shoulder when they walk to the garage. Dave likes that she has no qualms about touching him. “He’s my trainer,” Dave explains.

“God, stop it, you’re total totty.”

“I’m what?”

Adele stops on the passenger side, looks across the hood of the car. “What, totty?”

“Yeah. Is that bad?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Totty means fit – um, good looking.”

As they settle in their seats, she clicks her seatbelt on. “Sorry, I forget the slang sometimes, that it’s different.”

“No, totty,” he rolls the word around on his tongue. “I like it.”

This car ride is quiet, punctuated only by the radio commercials and red lights. When they get to the window, Adele tries to pay for the food, exclaiming it was part of their deal, but Dave doesn’t budge. 

\--

The three of them eat dinner at the kitchen table, Dublin begging for scraps around their feet until Dave hushes him with a fierce, “no!” Adele and Andrew seem to get on easily together, teasing back and forth like Dave does with her. It’s a preview of the weekend, with his whole family around. If Adele can charm his little brother, everyone else will be putty in her hand. 

Besides, Adele’s worries about springing someone extra on them for the holidays are totally unfounded. Their Thanksgiving table is usually an assortment of family, friends, and people his mom invites over with nowhere else to go. It’s a nice mix and it’s always a good time, no matter how many or few of them can make it. Dave wonders if maybe he should call ahead just to warn his mother that he’ll be bringing someone. With a smile, though, he suppresses the urge. Dave really wants to see the look on her face when she sees he’s brought a woman home with him.

He just has to remember to talk to her as soon as possible after they land, to ensure she doesn’t get any false hope about the whole situation. Dave can’t help the little flicker of it that flares in his belly, though, when he looks at Adele with his dog resting by her feet, sitting in his kitchen after eating and joking with his brother.

It’s a happy picture, and one Dave could probably get used to, if he let himself. 

He leaves Adele in the living room with the remote while he packs a carry-on. Dave has a closet in the house in Missouri, filled with lots of the cooler weather clothes he doesn’t need in LA, so he doesn’t worry about clothing. He just makes sure he packs his extra phone and laptop chargers to leave at the house, his Chiefs jersey, a stack of paperwork about the next round of touring, and a couple books he’d ordered off Amazon a few weeks earlier. The rest of the bag is filled up with presents for his nieces and nephews and cousins, things he’d picked up while he was on the road and he’s stashing at his house until Christmas.

Plugging everything in so it’s set for tomorrow, Dave walks down the hall to Andrew’s room. His brother’s got John Mayer playing lowly while he stuffs socks and jeans into a duffle bag.

“Hey.”

Andrew looks up, smiles. “What’s up? You done?” He shoves a couple sweatshirts off the bed and clears a space for Dave to sit.

“Yeah, didn’t need much.”

He nods, folding a tshirt against his chest with the neck tucked under his chin. “Yeah, I always seem to forget that.” Andrew lays the shirt in the open bag and walks over to his closet. “I like her,” he calls out, digging through a shelf cubby. “You do, too.” He emerges, triumphant with his KC shirt clutched in his fist.

Dave rubs his chin with his palm. “That obvious?”

Andrew shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve just known you forever.”

“You’re a liar,” Dave laughs.

Andrew shrugs. “She’s a nice girl. She’s totally into you. And I really think it’s a win-win situation.”

“How do you figure?”

“Okay.” Andrew crosses his arms over his chest and rocks back on his heels. “One - you treat her well and things are good. So that’s a win.”

“And the other scenario?” Dave asks skeptically.

“You break up, you’re miserable, and Adele writes another killer record. When she wins her sixth Grammy, you’ll know you were the reason for it.” Andrew zips up his bag, looks up and flashes a grin at Dave. “Tell me that’s not a total win.”

Dave gets up, tries to ruffle the back of Andrew’s hair while he edges out of reach. “You’re a sick man,” Dave calls as he heads back downstairs.

“You know I’m right!” Andrew hollers after him, and kicks the door shut.

\--

Adele’s still on the couch, but she’s toed out of her shoes and tucked her feet up beneath her. She’s leaning against the arm of his sofa and her eyes are closed while some reality show on VH1 plays softly in front of her. 

Dave’s reluctant to wake her, but they have an early start in the morning, dropping Dubs off first, and he’s positive the airport will be a nightmare. Even though it’s barely ten, and he’s a night owl lately, Dave can feel the effects of so much driving and the strangely exhaustive emotional battle waging inside of him creeping in. He knows he has a few more things to do before he can sack out, though, so he leaves Adele sleeping on the couch for a little while longer.

Heading to the office, Dave types up a quick checklist for Andy and Jennie, gathers a few of the dog’s favorite toys and the new bucket of treats Andrew bought over the weekend, and finds Dublin’s carrier. Setting them all on the kitchen counter, Dave makes another quick run through the fridge. Assured nothing in the kitchen should reek too badly by the time they get home, he bags up the trash and waters the little cactus garden their mom had insisted live on their counter. A smile touches his lips as he thinks of his mom’s reassurances that even her boys couldn’t kill the spiny little plants, and Dave realizes how excited he is to see his mother, to go home. It will be a good weekend, he knows it.

After checking all the locks again, Dave finally heads into the living room. Shutting off the tv, he leans close and softly says Adele’s name. He doesn’t want to give her a nudge or anything, some people freak out when they wake up and someone’s looming over them. Dave remembers the little scar Kyle still has on his wrist from when he shook Neal awake at the start of their first tour. 

Adele seems to be out pretty hard though, and she’s not responding to his voice. 

Dave’s debating whether he should just pull the blanket off the back of the couch and drape it over her when Andrew comes barreling down the stairs, calling for Dave. 

“Did you take my hat? I can’t find it!” He thunders into the living room. “David?” he hollers again before he sees Dave crouched in front of the couch. Andrew claps his hand over his mouth. “Shit, sorry!” 

Dave just shakes his head and Adele shifts in front of him. He backs away quickly, and when she opens her eyes, the two brothers are in the doorway. 

“Hey, you’re up!” Andrew says cheerfully. He feigns a stretch and yawn. “I was just coming down to say I was going to bed, so good night. See you in the morning!”

Adele waves, still obviously half-asleep. She shifts to a seated position. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to black out on your sofa.”

“No, no problem. I was just going to tell you I was headed upstairs too, so you didn’t wake up all disoriented and wonder where the hell you are.” He smiles at the way she pushes her hair out of her eyes. “I do that all the time when I’m not at home.”

“Cheers.” Adele gets off the couch and she follows him to the staircase. 

“Do you want some water or something?” Dave offers before he walks her up. She shakes her head groggily and they go up. Dublin’s tags clink when he bounds behind them, and he scampers into Dave’s room. Stopping at the door of the guest bedroom, Dave opens it for her.

“We were going to leave at six-thirty tomorrow. There’s an alarm clock by the bed, will that be ok?” 

Adele wraps her arms around herself and nods. “Sure, sure, I’ll manage just fine.” Without warning, she rises up on her toes and presses a quick kiss to his cheek. “Good night, David.” 

“I – good night, Miss Adkins. Sweet dreams.”

Wagging her finger at him with a little smile and a tsking sound, she nods and shuts the door. After it’s closed, Dave has to restrain himself from touching the spot on his face like a middle school girl. 

He wanders back down the hall and goes into his room, gets ready for bed. 

Dave’s asleep before his head hits the pillow.

\--

He wakes up five minutes before his alarm on Wednesday morning, when the sky is still dark and barely pink at the edges. Dublin hears Dave stirring in the sheets and he jumps up on the bed, onto Dave’s chest. Dave spends a moment rubbing under Dubs’ chin, quietly apologizing for not taking his dog home to Missouri for the long weekend. 

“But I know you’ll have a killer time with Ames, and Andy will take you to the park and you guys might even all go see Sixx and you know how he loves it when you boss him around, so you’ll have more fun without me, I promise.” 

Dublin just rests his head on his paws and snuffles, and Dave takes that as a sign of approval. With a sigh and a final scratch, Dave shoos Dublin off and gets out of bed, smoothing the duvet over his messy sheets and slipping into the bathroom for a quick shower.

Rubbing his head with a towel, Dave pulls clothes out and gets dressed before pounding on Andrew’s door. 

“Wake up call for Sleeping Beauty!” Dave smiles when he hears a grouchy holler muffled by pillows come from inside the room.

Hanging the towel over his shower door, Dave gathers the last few things from his room and zips his bag shut. Shouldering the duffle, Dave makes his way down the hall and raps lightly on the guest bedroom doorframe. 

“You can come in.”

Dave’s surprised Adele’s up and about, and hesitates before twisting the doorknob open. Adele’s bags are sitting near the edge of the neatly made bed and he can see her through the open doorway into the bathroom, a mascara wand in her hand. Her hair is up already, braided into some complicated configuration around her head. 

“What time did you get up?” he asks incredulously. 

Adele shrugs, looks at her watch. “An hour ago? I might still be on east coast time. Do we need to go?”

“No, we still have time. Do you want coffee or something?” 

Adele wrinkles her nose at that. “I’m more of a tea fan first thing, English, remember?” She caps her mascara and runs a fluffy brush over her face before snapping the makeup case shut.

Dave leans back against the doorframe. “Earl Grey?”

“Don’t tease me. I’ll get some at the airport.” Adele zips her suitcase closed and puts it next to the others. “I think I’m all set.”

“We have tea, you know, we‘re not total savages. If you’d like some, I can make it.” Looking back towards Andrew’s door, which hasn’t opened since he knocked on it earlier, he shrugs. “Andrew’s still going to be a little while.”

Adele shakes her head, starts to speak, but Dave barrels forward. “And it’s not a big deal or an inconvenience to pull the box of teabags out of the cabinet or to put some water in the microwave, so stop thinking it is.” He pushes off the wall and points to her suitcases. “I can take some of those downstairs for you if you’d like”.

Her mouth purses up a little and Adele looks like she might want to dress him down for cutting her off instead of nodding, but Dave’s a little more relaxed this morning. With some sleep and the prospect of seeing his family later – and oh God, barbecue for dinner, - he’s not wound as tightly and trying to act a little more like himself. 

“I’ll get this one and be down in a second.” 

Dave picks up the garment bag and the large rolling bag and heads down the stairs, smiling at the “thank you,” that drifts past him.

Dublin runs in from outside and Dave gives him a treat after filling a measuring cup with water and shoving it in the microwave. He retrieves the paper from the front step and is flicking idly through the news after setting out a mug and spoon when Adele comes down with her last bags. 

“Weather looks good for tomorrow in KC,” he remarks. “Flag football’s definitely a-go.” 

Adele drops a teabag into her cup and waits for it to steep while shaking her head. “I will gladly cheer you on from the house—or even the garden.” 

“You have to play. Do you want milk or sugar or anything with that?”

“Milk, please.” 

Dave opens the fridge and pulls the carton out, hopes no one’s chugged from the rim before handing it over. “Just play one game. It’s fun, I promise.” 

Adele stirs her tea and staunchly refuses. “Never.” 

“Everyone plays though, not just the guys. It’s really a good time.”

“I will peel potatoes, top and tail beans, set the table, hoover the house -- but I am not playing football.” 

Dave just eyes her speculatively. “Just you wait.” 

“Don’t hold your breath.”

Andrew sinks into one of the barstools after tossing his bag onto the pile. “People shouldn’t be awake this early. It’s criminal.”

“You all ready to go?” 

Andrew nods and pulls his baseball cap down further. Dave claps him on the shoulder and whistles for Dublin. “Then we should get this show on the road.” 

\--

After loading all the gear into the car, Andrew takes the backseat with Dublin. He’s asleep before they’re out of the neighborhood. Dave wonders if he should have Adele come up to the front door with him, knows Andy and Jen would love to meet her, but doesn’t know if that’s awkward, if he’ll have enough time to explain, if Jennie will kill him for introducing her without makeup on at six in the morning. He texts her to let them know they’re headed over and decides to play it by ear.

When they pull up to the apartment complex, Dave reaches into the backseat for Dublin’s carrier. He hands it to Adele, who makes kissing noises and starts to coo at the dog, while Dave juggles the bag of toys and bucket of treats. 

“Want me to help?” she offers sweetly. Looking down at all the stuff he has to carry, the decision is easier than he thinks. 

“Do you mind?” 

“Of course not, another few minutes with this guy?” Adele unzips the carrier and scratches Dublin’s head. “I’ll miss you, Mr. Cook. It was so nice to meet you. Be good for your daddy’s friends, ok?” She leans down and Dublin sticks his face out further, licks her on the nose. “If you are, I’ll bring you a pressie from Chicago, deal?” 

Dublin cocks his head to the side and then wriggles back into his carrier. 

“And don’t think I won’t know if you’re naughty,” she admonishes as she zips it up. 

“That works on humans too, does it?” Dave asks as they walk up to the apartment. 

Adele reaches out and scratches the back of his neck. “You tell me,” she offers with a grin.

Jennie opens the door before they get there. She’s got her robe on and a surprised smile on her face. “Good morning, sunshine.” She leans up on her toes to give Dave a kiss on the cheek and then takes the bucket from his hands. “Had to call in reinforcements because Andrew already passed out?” she jokes, looking from Dave to Adele with curiosity.

“Sorry, boys have no manners this early.” Adele juggles the carrier to her other hand. “I’m Adele. Are you Jennie?” 

“I am – it’s really nice to meet you. Come in, please.” Jennie beckons them both inside. Adele sets Dublin down, asks if she can open the mesh carrier. Dave nods, and when she unzips the side and Dublin bounds out, Amos lifts his head lazily from his perch on the couch, yawns, and settles back down on his paws. “That’s Amos.” Jennie offers. “I think Andy’s in the shower, just give me a second to check, make sure he doesn’t come out with a towel on or something. Dave, you know where to put everything,” she throws over her shoulder as she walks down the hall. 

Dave sets the bag of toys down in the kitchen and crouches down to pet his boy. “Be good, okay? Daddy loves you. I’ll be home soon. You’re going to have such a good time, I promise.” 

There’s a slight commotion from the bedroom down the hall and then Andy comes out, hair damp and shirt buttons slightly askew. He shoots Dave a look, the one that promises a series of nosy texts when he gets to the airport, before giving Adele a wide, bright smile. 

“Hey, I’m Andy. Thanks for helping drag all this stuff in. Dave packs more for Dubs than he does himself.” 

“Pleasure.” She nods, almost shyly, and Dave feels bad for bombarding her with meeting his friends first thing in the morning. “I love your dog, I have a dachshund too.” 

“Ames, come over and say hi.” Amos finally rouses at the sound of Andy’s voice and hops gingerly off the couch. He slinks over and weaves through their legs before settling on top of Andy’s foot. 

“May I?” Adele asks Jennie, before bending down to offer her hand. Amos sniffs cautiously and yawns, totally uninterested in any of the goings-on. “You’re a pretty boy, aren’t you? Such nice shiny fur! Your mum and dad must love you loads, look at all your swag, you lucky pup.” 

Andy extricates himself and takes Dave into the kitchen when Jennie sinks down onto the floor next to Adele, asking her about her dog. 

“What the hell, dude?” he hisses. “Are you…”

Dave puts a finger in front of his lips. “We’re all going to Kansas City. She didn’t have anyone to hang out with tomorrow.” He shakes his head a little and gives Andy a look, the one that means ‘shut the fuck up, I’ll explain later’. “But we’re going to be late if we don’t go now, I’ll see you Tuesday.” Andy just steps back and lets Dave back into the living room. Adele looks up and smiles at them both. 

“Time to leave?” she asks. 

“Yeah, we still have to check all the bags and park at the long-term lot, so we’d better get going.” 

Adele gives Amos a long rub with the back of her hand. “Nice to meet you, sir. You and Dublin have fun, ok? Next time I’ll bring Louie and you can all play.” She eases off the floor and rubs her hands on her jeans before shaking Jennie’s hand with both of hers. Jennie wraps her arms around Adele; her easy affection is something Dave’s just used to after so long. He’s happy to see it doesn’t throw Adele off and that she returns the hug with an easy grace. 

“Lovely to meet you.” Jennie offers. “Next time you’re here, we should all go have dinner or something?” Andy steps forward, shakes Adele’s hand before tossing an arm over Jennie’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, we’ll have to get together soon. Cool, Dave?”

Dave looks to Adele, shrugs with a smile. “I’m not the one with the jet-setting schedule.” 

“I’d really enjoy that.” She looks up at Dave. “If everyone else is fine with it, of course.” 

He rubs his hands together; the domestic warm fuzzies are almost too much to bear. “I’ll call you about next week, thanks again for watching my guy.” Dave reaches down for one last scratch and then goes over to hug Andy and Jennie. “Happy Thanksgiving, you two.” 

“You have so much explaining to do,” Jennie whispers in his ear. 

“Yep,” Andy echoes. 

They get into the car and Andrew barely stirs. 

“Your friends are lovely,” Adele offers as they ease into the early morning traffic.

He looks over at her, head leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah, they’re good people.” 

“They look really sweet together – like they were meant to be with each other, their little family.” 

“We always tease them, that they’re the All-American couple. But they’ve been together forever. They just kind of fit each other, you know?”

The rest of the drive is quiet, Dave tunes the Sirius to a 90s station. Traffic’s light for the start of a holiday weekend, and Dave feels pretty lucky. As they approach the airport, Dave reaches into the backseat and nudges Andrew’s knee. 

“Hey, Drew, wake up.” 

Andrew mumbles a little, but his eyes open and Dave can see him wiping his glasses on his sleeve. “Up and at 'em, Sergeant.”

“So I was thinking, I’ll drop you both off at the curb, you could each check in with the bags and go through security, and then I’ll go park the car. That way no one has to pay extra for luggage.” Dave doesn’t say that they can avoid photographers that way too, not that he’d mind being snapped, but LAX on a holiday is sure to be a nightmare, and he’d like to spare Adele the hassle. 

“Plus the paps won’t go nuts,” Adele interjects.

He looks over at her, rolls his eyes. “Such a pain in the ass.” 

“It’s cool.” Adele turns in her seat. “Hey, want to fuck with them a little?”

Andrew’s eyes widen. “Who, me?” 

“No, both of us.” There’s an evil tilt to Adele’s smile. “You can be on the cover of US Weekly. Because if I’m recognized at the airport with a guy, I’m pretty sure they’ll go crazy. I want to give those nosy fuckers a reason to shoot pictures.” 

Andrew just considers it for a minute, shrugs. “Yeah, I’m cool with that.” 

Dave feels a furrow start between his brows. “Wait, that’s not a good idea. Andrew, this probably isn’t very smart.” 

Andrew adjusts the brim of his cap. “Why, because I might act like an asshole?” 

Dave turns around in the seat as they settle into the long line at passenger drop-off, glares at his little brother. “You most certainly will NOT. Not while you’re standing with or near her.”

“Hello, her has a name and I am sitting right here and don’t act like my dad.” Adele grabs at Dave’s sleeve. “We won’t do anything. Calm down. I’ll check my own bags.” She smiles sweetly at him. “I can afford the baggage fee, I promise.” 

Dave hits the gas and moves forward in line, slightly perturbed. He starts to feel slightly panicky and twitchy; he’s never liked the public eye nosing in on his private life. He also doesn’t want Adele to think that he’s ashamed of being photographed with her, because that’s not the case at all. 

As they pull up to the curb finally, Dave pops the trunk. Andrew gets out and starts pulling bags out, piling them onto the sidewalk. Before Adele opens the door, Dave leans over, reaches for her arm. 

“Hey. I just want you to know – I’d be glad to get my picture taken - or whatever - with you. That’s not it.” 

Adele adjusts the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “I didn’t think it was, but thanks for clearing it up.” 

“No, really. I’d – I’d like that, actually.” Dave gets that familiar awkward fuzzy feeling in his head, when he gets nervous, like a middle schooler again. “Today’s just going to be a zoo and I’d rather not put you in that position and I’m sorry if I sound like a dick, that’s not the case, I swear. You don’t need to deal with that, it’s supposed to be fun and I don’t want to drag you into the middle of some media circus when you’re just trying to get away for the weekend and you already probably feel awkward enough--” 

Adele reaches up into Dave’s collar and pulls him over, pressing her lips against his, silencing the tumbling stream of nervous chatter. The kiss is brief and no more than a brush of her mouth over his, but it stuns him into shutting up. 

“I have to go, unless you want to make more of a scene, ok, Mr. Cook?” Adele nods towards the police officer heading towards them. “Don’t get arrested trying to defend my honor. Go park your car and I’ll see you soon.” 

With that, she’s out of the car and Dave just shakes his head dumbly, trying to maneuver the car through the thickening crowd of vehicles, looping around the airport to the long-term lot. He pulls his credit card out, swipes it in the reader and parks, pulling his bag from the backseat and checking for his ticket. Dave doesn’t remember the shuttle ride to the airport or toeing out of his shoes in the security line, doesn’t focus on anything until he steps into the Delta lounge. Adele is talking on her phone at a banquette in the corner and Andrew’s got a plate of mini-muffins in front of the flat screen tv blaring ESPN. He nods when Dave sits down next to him.

“Parked ok?” 

“Yeah. Everything cool here?” 

Andrew chews through a blueberry muffin and shrugs. “Had to do the full-body scan, hope they got their kicks seeing my sweet bod on their screen.” Andrew notices Dave looking over at the corner of the room. “No one recognized her. I stood a couple people back. Your secret’s safe.” He shoves Dave away. “Now go talk to your girlfriend.” 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Dave interjects automatically. 

“Bullshit,” Andrew shoots back. “You haven’t looked at someone like that since Liz in college.” He points to the table with the continental breakfast. “Go drown your feelings in some fruit or a bran muffin or something, Chief.” 

“Freeloader.” Dave mumbles as he hoists his luggage over his shoulder and picks up an apple on the way to Adele’s table.

“Bullshit, I’ll be there on Saturday. Why am I not allowed to do anything for myself, ever?” Adele rolls her eyes at whoever’s on the phone and looks up at Dave. “Fuck off, I won’t get sick again. Am I ever going to live that down? Can you please just rebook my ticket for me? Listen, I’ll call you when I get to Chicago. No, my phone will not be working where I’m going, so don’t try.” 

She stabs at the phone violently and shoves it in her purse before cheekily grinning at Dave. “Well, that’s done.” 

“Everything ok?” Dave sits down and takes a bite out of his apple. 

“Just dressing down my twat of a manager, no problem. Did I miss the fruit table?” Adele asks and Dave points over to the setup behind the check-in desk. “Oooh, first class is so posh.” 

“I can go get you something, if you like.” 

Adele eyes the offerings. “No, I’ll wait. Thanks, love.” Her phone starts to ring within the confines of her purse, and Adele digs through it. “Sorry, it’s my mum. Do you mind if I take this?”

It reminds Dave to call his own mother and he steps away while Adele curls up on the chair, trying to ignore that she called him love. He tells himself it’s an English thing; she probably said it to the check-in girl. Generic greeting or not, it still sends a little tingle down his spine. When Dave flicks on his phone, he sees seven text messages. Four are from Andy, two are from Neal, and one is from his mom, reminding him she’s picking them up. 

Dave scrolls through his list of contacts. His mom’s voice greeting him makes him smile; he glances over at Andrew in the middle of the room and then Adele on the phone with her own mother, tucked up in her seat.

“Hi Mom. How are you?” 

“Freezing. The temperature dropped about fifteen degrees overnight. I hope you boys are warm enough. Want me to turn the heat on at your house?”

“That would be perfect, thanks. Are you all ready for tomorrow?” He can hear the car door slam and his mom rustling about; she’s probably just come home from the grocery store with last minute shopping for Thursday. 

“Looks like it. You ready to peel some potatoes?” 

Dave groans and buries his face in his hand. “Every year, Mom. Can’t Andrew do it this time?” 

“Not to be particular, I love you equally, but it’s not the same. Andrew’s got the Jell-O salad covered, I’ve already spoken to him about it, and he’s doing it tonight.” 

Dave sees Adele shut off her phone, toss a small smile in his direction when he shrugs at her, then pull a magazine from her bag and start to flick through it.

“Potato duty it is.” Across the room, Andrew dusts off his hands and tosses his plate in the trash, ambles over to where Adele’s sitting and stretches out next to her. They lean towards one another and start talking about something in the magazine and Dave feels a little pang of something – not jealousy or discomfort, just a hollow little ache watching them take to each other so easily. 

“It’s all settled then. When do you two board?”

Dave glances at his watch, sees that they have less than fifteen minutes to cross the terminal before it starts. “Soon.” He gets up, slings his bag across his chest and walks over to the other two. He points at his watch and tilts his head towards the entrance. They both rise off their seats, gather all of their stuff and the three of them head out. 

Walking slightly behind the other two, Dave makes small talk with his mom until they get to their gate. 

“I’m here, so I’ll let you go now.”

“Okay sweetheart. Text me from Salt Lake if you two are going to be late, otherwise I’ll see you at the curb.”

“You got it.” Dave’s about to say goodbye, when he remembers the reason why he called. A grin overtakes his face when he casually drops, “Oh, and Mom? Better drive the big car, we’re bringing more with us than usual.” 

“Sure thing, honey. I’ll see you soon. Love to you and your brother. Fly safely.” 

“Bye Mom.”

Dave’s barely slipped his phone in his pocket when the flight attendant announces they’ve begun first class boarding to Salt Lake City. He puts a hand on Andrew’s shoulder when he bounds forward, shaking his head. Adele looks back, nods, and filters into the line. She disappears down the jet way and Dave lets a few more passengers line up before he lets go of Andrew. 

“Let’s go,” he says.

On the plane, Dave pulls his iPod and his book out before stowing his bag over his seat. Adele’s just across the aisle in the window seat, and she’s already tucked her scarf up around her ears and turned towards the small oval of glass, buried in her magazine. He lets Andrew take the aisle and pulls his cap down over his face. Dave doesn’t mind being recognized, and generally on flights he isn’t, but while people are boarding the plane it’s awkward and disrespectful to the rest of the passengers for anyone to stop. 

Andrew snaps open the USA Today he snagged from the Delta lounge and hands Dave everything but the sports section. Dave blindly scans the newspaper and politely accepts a diet Coke from the flight attendant. He sees Adele take a cup of tea from the same woman a moment later and smiles at her when she looks at him, wincing at the heat of it on her tongue. 

“When we get up in the air, I’m switching with her; I don’t want you leaning over me, making lovey eyes at Adele the whole way to Utah.” Andrew hisses behind the paper. Dave shoots him his best intimidating big brother glare, but Andrew laughs it off. “Spare me Dave, that doesn’t even work on Dublin.” 

“Want to sit in coach on the way back?” Dave offers sweetly. “I can totally arrange that.” 

Andrew smoothes the page open in front of him and makes a clucking sound with his tongue. “Nope, you can’t, but nice try, bro.” 

They get up into the air, and Dave switches his iPod on. It’s been a few days since he’s listened to it, and he smiles when he sees the last song he played was Turning Tables. Dave leans his head back against the seat back and lets the music play over him, lulling him into a haze. He waves away any offer of food, and sometime over Nevada, nods off completely. 

Andrew shakes his shoulder some time later.

"Wake up dude, we've gotta go!" 

Dave opens his eyes with a start, and the majority of the plane is empty. He looks across the aisle, and Adele is gone. 

"Shit, why didn't you get me up before?" Dave barely avoids slamming his skull on the overhead and pulls his bag out, shoving his book inside. 

"I tried; you were passed the f out. You kept shoving me away and mumbling."

He doesn't know where they're going, just kind of rushing up the jet way and bursting into the crowded, overheated terminal in Salt Lake. 

"Where is she?" Dave hisses to Andrew.

"She was going to check the gate for the next flight and text me," Andrew jerks Dave's shoulder. "Dude. Calm down for a second." He looks around for a second and then pulls Dave behind him to the bathroom. Shoving him towards a sink, Andrew takes his bag. "Wash your face or something, you look crazy." 

Dave pushes his hat back, and before he splashes his face with some cold water, realizes he _does_ look a little nuts. He feels groggy and disoriented and totally out of sorts. He hates sleeping on planes, but always manages to do it. Running his other hand over the back of his neck, Dave feels his heart slow to a more reasonable rhythm, he doesn’t know why he freaks out about the little things so much when he travels. 

Andrew hands him a paper towel and Dave mops his face off. Tugging the hat back down, he looks a little more like himself. 

"Okay now?"

Dave nods wordlessly. Andrew digs his phone out of his pocket and clicks through his messages. "She texted me, I have the gate. Want to go straight there or go to the lounge?" 

Dave shrugs. "Where's Adele?" 

Andrew rolls his eyes. "Seriously man. She's a grown woman." He types something into his phone and it beeps a second later. "She's getting something at Starbucks. Says she'll meet us at the gate." They walk back onto the concourse and head to the seating area. There's a deserted section of chairs a few gates down from theirs, and Dave nods his head towards the far corner. 

Adele walks up a few moments later, a tray in her hands. "I think I'll call you Sleeping Beauty instead of Prince Charming," she quips before sitting down next to Dave. Doling out the drinks, she hands Andrew a cup. "Hot chocolate for you, and tea for you." She gives Dave a steaming paper cup and he can smell the grassy aroma of green tea. 

"Thanks." he says quietly, and Adele just nods and takes a sip of her own drink.

They can see the mountains off in the distance from this side of the terminal and there's already snow up on the hilltops. 

"It's pretty here," Adele comments. "I've never been out when I've visited, only gone to the venue and the hotel." 

Dave swallows a mouthful of tea and agrees. "Salt Lake City is gorgeous. Even if you don't ski, in the winter you have to see it." 

Andrew looks up from his phone. "Archuleta in town?" he asks. 

Dave shakes his head. "He was in LA until this afternoon, I think." 

"And who's that?" Adele asks, hands cradled around her cup. 

"David Archuleta? He was on Idol with me - he lives here." Dave smiles. "Actually, if we were here more than an hour or two, he'd probably have dinner arranged and we'd be hanging out with his whole family - he loves you, loves everyone, really - but he’s a big fan of yours." 

Adele just gives him a quiet smile and turns back to the view. “Tell him I’m sorry I missed him then.”

Dave turns in his seat and watches the people passing. People are more relaxed than in LA, everyone's strangely content on one of the biggest travel days of the year. Looking back to the people sitting next to him, Dave understands why.

\--

The next flight is fast and uneventful. Dave forces himself to boot up his computer and work a little. He takes the aisle seat, Adele is a row in front of him on the other side, and he glances up at her every now and then. She's got her headphones in too and her fingernails are tapping against her knee for a while. Eventually they still, and her head leans to the side until it's pillowed on her scarf.

It's easier to work once she's asleep. 

As they approach Kansas City, Dave puts his laptop away and leans over Andrew to gaze out the window. He loves watching the approach into his hometown, picking out the landmarks from the air, tracing the highways and streets from memory. 

Adele stirs in front of them and she stretches her arms out and turns to give him a sleepy grin. Dave waves at her, just a little flutter of his fingertips, and the motion is echoed in his stomach, the enormity that he's bringing a girl home to meet his mom on Thanksgiving suddenly dawning on him.

When the cabin doors open, Adele exits first, but waits for Andrew and Dave just past the exit. 

"I didn't know where to go," she admits, and they walk behind Andrew while he leads the way to baggage claim. Dave texts his mom - "Landed!" he types, and gets a quick response - "I know, your brother texted me from the plane. See you in a few minutes. Mom"

While they weave through the throngs of people, Dave discovers that apparently the later in the day it gets, the crankier people are. He puts his hand on her arm to shield Adele from a rowdy group of preteen boys careening straight towards them. Subtly guiding her out of the path of destruction, they finally make it to the escalators, some angry women tsking at him for getting in their way. Dave just turns and gives them his brightest smile, the one he's perfected since Idol, and they hush a little. 

At baggage claim, Andrew's already hefted one of the bags off the carousel. 

"You're a dream," she mouths to him, and Andrew preens at the attention. Dave has to applaud the bright baggage tags Adele's put on her luggage, but he also realizes not many people in Kansas City have Louis Vuitton suitcases, so they're not terribly difficult to pick out.

"Stop making fun of me," Adele murmurs. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“I'm not making fun of you," Dave shoots back. "I've just never seen a set like that outside of a J-Lo video." 

"I got my first record deal, and I went a little nuts," Adele admits. "But I don't have a flash sports car like some people, so it's my little gift to me. Plus, I use them almost as often as a car." 

Dave tries to defend himself, but realizes she's just teasing him. 

All of a sudden, arms wrap around Dave's middle and he turns with a start. His mother is stranding in the middle of the crowd, beaming up at him. 

"Hey! You weren't supposed to pay for parking!!" 

Beth holds on tight for a second, and Dave feels a little prickle of emotion at the corner of his eyes. He squeezes them shut and holds on tight for a moment.

When she lets go, Beth stands back and looks at him, puts her hands on his face.

"I missed you," she says, and Dave nods, he knows exactly how she feels. "Where's Andrew?" she asks, rising onto her tiptoes and scanning the crowd. 

Dave points to the baggage claim and Beth squeezes his hand once more before starting off towards him. 

"Wait, Mom, hold on a second." 

She turns, tilts her head in a gesture eternally familiar to him. "Yes honey?" 

Dave pulls her back to his side, and turns them both around. Adele has stepped back just a little and suddenly looks unsure. 

"I want you to meet someone," Dave says lightly. "This is Adele." 

One of the things Dave loves most about his mother is her ability to just take everything in stride and barrel forward. He thinks it's probably to do with having raised boys. In one swift motion, without a questioning look back at him, Beth has her arms open, wrapped around Adele's shoulders. 

"Hi Adele, I'm Beth, it's wonderful to meet you. Have my boys been treating you well?" 

"Definitely, thank you so much. They're lovely." 

Andrew motions to Dave that he has everything and Dave tells the two women he'll be back in just a moment. 

"You didn't wait for me?" Andrew complains, lightly pummeling Dave in the shoulder. "I wanted to see her face." 

Dave brushes Andrew off and takes the bag he's pulling along, shoving him towards their mom. Beth envelopes Andrew in a hug and kisses his cheek. 

“Doesn’t your brother feed you?” she quips before stepping back to look at the three of them. "So, we ready to go kids?" 

They look at one another and nod, and Beth takes the hanging bag, and they head to the car. 

Dave rearranges the trunk so everything will fit and then Beth tosses him the keys, the Jeep belonged to him and then to Andrew while they were at college, and it's the car they use when they're in town. She climbs into the backseat with Adele and Andrew just raises his hands and gets into the passenger seat. 

"So, have you ever been to Kansas City?" Beth asks Adele, and her quiet answer is drowned by the radio Andrew cranks up. Dave reaches out to twist it down, but Andrew stops him. "Dude, let them talk for a minute without you. You don't need to be involved in everything," he finishes.

As much as it irks him, his brother's right, and Dave satisfies himself with occasional glances in the rearview mirror, to make sure Adele isn't blown over by his mom's inquisitive personality. Maybe all mothers are like that, probing but in an unobtrusive way, gleaning as much information as they possibly can from their children. 

After driving for about ten minutes, Dave finally turns the radio down. "Where are we headed?" he asks his mom. 

"Are you kids hungry?" Beth asks. 

"Starving," Andrew replies. Dave rolls his eyes, that's a no-brainer. 

"I thought we could go for barbecue tonight because we'll have turkey for the next week, does that work?" She directs the question to Adele, who nods. 

"I’ve never really had it, so yeah, that works." 

Dave laughs. "I think that was her subtle way of asking if you're a vegetarian," he explains.

Adele sweeps her hands out. "Absolutely not, I love meat; I’m a carnivore through and through." 

"Perfect." Beth exclaims. "I'll just text my husband then, and he can meet us for an early dinner." 

"Ughh, I've been waiting months for this," Andrew explains. "We take our barbecue seriously in Kansas City. And if you've never had it, you'll be spoiled for life going to this place, so on behalf of them, I’ll just apologize now." 

It turns out that his stepdad isn't the only one meeting them for dinner. There are approximately a dozen people waiting in the back room when they arrive. 

"Shit Mom, you didn’t tell us the whole family would be here!” Dave hisses under his breath.

"Language," Beth admonishes him, giving him the look, the one mothers perfect the moment their children understand what the word no means, and pushes him aside. She ushers Adele forward and claps her hands.

“Everyone, this is Dave and Andrew’s friend Adele from England. She’s visiting for the weekend and it’s her first Thanksgiving.” Adele gives a little wave and Beth smiles at her gathered family. “Let’s try to not scare her too badly.”

Like that, the silence and the awkward moment is shattered, and Dave is suddenly enveloped in hugs and pats on the back from all of his relatives, everyone welcoming him back into the fray.

His sister moves her son to the other side of her and quickly motions Adele over, introducing herself and pointing out everyone around the table. Andrew settles on her other side and Dave finds himself on the far end of the table, next to Grenvell and his brother in law. They’re soon absorbed in talking about the Chiefs, though, and he sees Adele pulled into conversation, cooing at his nephew, and laughing over the enormous amount of food placed in front of all of them.

At one point, her eyes dart up to his, and Dave stops mid-stream, smiles at her and mouths ‘you’ve just got to dive in’ before turning back and continuing.

A few minutes after the food arrives, Andrew pushes his chair back, grabs his plate, and ambles down to where Dave is sitting. Clapping him on the back, he leans down. “Dammit David, why didn’t you tell me you were hogging all the burnt ends down here?”

He nudges Dave out of his spot, and when Dave switches chairs, he just murmurs a quick ‘thanks’ to his little brother. Andrew waves him away and Dave finds himself sliding into Andrew’s empty seat.

“How are we doing?” Dave asks Adele.

She dabs delicately at her mouth with a napkin. “Messy, but good. This is delicious.” She points to something down the table. “What’s that, I’m afraid to try it?”

Dave reaches across his mom’s plate, shrugging an apology when she slaps his hand away and hands him the basket. Dave shakes a couple out onto Adele’s plate and pops one into his mouth.

“Fried okra.”

She pokes at it with her fork. “What’s okra?’

Dave doesn’t really know how to explain it, and any description would just defy the delicious way it tastes, so he just urges her to try it.

“It’s fucking scrumptious, is what it is. I promise.” Adele purses her lips at him.

“You realize if it’s disgusting, I can never trust you again.”

Dave lays his arm across the back of her chair. “This coming from the woman who lives in the land of jellied eel and kidney pie. Oh yeah, I’ve been to jolly old England.” He pushes the plate towards her. “Just eat it.”

Adele scrunches her nose, takes a bite, and Dave can see she enjoys it by the way her face relaxes into a chewing motion. "I usually hate vegetables, but it's good." 

“See? You can trust me,” he leans over and whispers into her ear, and Adele turns her head a moment too fast. Their noses collide and suddenly his lips are smashed against her cheek.

“Shit.” Dave pulls away, fumbles for his napkin, because Adele now has a smear of barbecue sauce near her mouth, probably from his beard. He passes her a paper towel and motions to her cheek. She dabs it lightly at her face and with his eyes darting around the table, Dave can see his family has barely noticed a thing, except for Andrew, raising his cup in a jaunty salute.

\--

Later that night, when Dave is waiting for the potatoes to boil in his mom’s kitchen, Beth corners him. Adele is in the living room, poring over the photo albums his mother insisted on pulling out, and Andrew is taking far too much glee in recounting all of Dave’s embarrassing childhood horror stories to her. Dave can’t handle the humiliation, so he gets started on the task assigned to him for tomorrow. When his mom walks into the room, Dave knows he’s in for it. 

Dave takes a drink and holds up his hand. “Wait, I need more wine for this conversation.” 

“You’re a smart aleck kid, you know that?” Beth tops up his glass of red wine and pours herself another one from the bottle on the counter. 

Dave takes a sip from his glass. “I think I might have learned it from you.” 

His mom smiles and takes a drink. “Before you start in on me, I just wanted to say that I like her. I like her a lot. She’s more like you than the others.” 

“Mom, stop, we’re just friends-” he starts to protest and Beth rolls her eyes at him. Dave sees where Andrew picked up the habit.

“You couldn’t stop looking at her, all through dinner, on the drive over, or since we’ve been here.” Beth taps her son on the nose. “You’re my kid, I know these things.”

“Pretty sure she’s not in it for that. Shit, haven’t you listened to her music?”

“So because someone writes a song, they’re supposed to feel that way forever? You know better than that, David.” Beth doesn’t skip a beat. “I’m not just saying this because I’m your mom and I have to, honey. But if anyone could change her mind about relationships, I think it would probably be you.” 

Once again, Dave’s reminded why he lucked out in the parent department. His mother’s swift, reassuring manner and ability to make everyone, especially her children, feel instantly at ease is glaringly obvious during this conversation.

“Why are you so worried about this, David? I don’t think you’re alone in the way you feel.”

Dave sets down his glass and lifts the lid on the pot, prods a potato with a fork. The tines slide right through it and he turns the burner off. “I don’t know, Mom.”

Beth just shrugs her shoulders, takes a sip of her wine. “Honey, I’m just saying that in my experience, most women don’t fly halfway across the country to someone’s house for Thanksgiving and meet their family just because they don’t have anything better to do.” 

Laughter filters from the front room and Beth smiles at the sound. “I’d get a move on it though, because your brother seems to be pretty smitten too.” 

Dave smacks his palm against his forehead. “Jesus, that’s all I need,” he mutters, taking a deep swallow of his wine. 

His mom moves forward, presses a kiss to the red mark, pats him on the cheek. “I’ll finish this. Go take them a drink.” 

Dave picks up the bottle and pauses in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Thanks Mom.” 

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” 

\--

After they say goodbye to everyone, Dave, Andrew, and Adele pile into the Jeep for the drive over to Dave’s house. He’s grateful to his mother for kicking the heat on earlier, because as they all move the luggage into the house, it feels like the temperature has dropped another ten degrees outside. The house is still pretty cool inside though, and he taps the thermostat. It reads 71*, but it feels colder than that. Dave’s probably just still frozen though from being out in a thin sweatshirt and jeans.

After Andrew grabs the last bag, he mentions the heavy cloud cover outside to his brother. “Think it might snow tomorrow?” 

Dave grimaces, he’s not ready to haul out the snow gear quite yet. “Maybe it’ll hold out until Monday.” 

Adele comes out of the bathroom, and Dave tries to remember if it got at least a wipe down before they left the last time. He’s pretty tired though, and it makes him an awful host, but at the moment, Dave can’t be terribly bothered to care.

“Sorry if the place is a mess,” Dave says, and Adele looks around, shrugs her shoulders. 

“Looks pretty good to me.” She pulls one of her bags over her shoulder and ejects the handle on another one. “You can stop apologizing to me. I’m about the untidiest slob in history. There’s a reason you didn’t see my hotel room.”

Thankful Andrew’s not around to hear that particular snippet of information; Dave shoulders his own duffle and leads Adele to the guest room. This time, he does have to put sheets on the bed, so he tosses his bag in his room and makes his way to the hall closet. 

Returning with a folded stack of linens, Dave hands Adele the bundle of towels. She just sets them aside and moves to the far side of the bed when he strips back the comforter and starts to tuck the fitted sheet onto the mattress. 

“You don’t have to…” he starts, but Adele shoots him a look, one that tells him to shut the hell up. Dave closes his mouth and it’s in that moment he realizes, it’s not solely a mom trait, it’s just a female thing, that piercing, terrifying stare that can make men stop in their tracks. They work silently in tandem, snapping the flat sheet over the bed. For all of her protests, Adele folds tighter hospital corners than he does. 

When they’re slipping cases onto the pillows, Adele looks over at him. “You know, I’m usually kind of blunt, so I’m sorry if this offends you.” 

Oh shit. Dave braces himself for an onslaught. “Okay?” he prompts her.

“I’d rather you not treat me like some kind of fragile, honored guest, David. It’s lovely how much you care, really. But if you came over to mine, I’d show you where the mugs are, where the bathroom is, and we’d be sorted.” She reaches across the foot of the bed and touches his hand before they smooth the down comforter up. “I’m sorry; I’m kind of a mouthy bitch sometimes. I just feel awful, you’re going to all this effort and I already feel like a blight on your holiday.” 

“Adele?” 

“Yeah?” 

Dave flips his hand over, because he just now realizes it’s still under hers, so his palm is resting on hers. 

“I wouldn’t have asked you to come if I didn’t really want you here.” His mouth tilts up. “So maybe take your own advice and stop saying sorry.” 

Her look of amused shock makes him grin even more, makes him feel a little bolder, like himself. “Let’s say - no more apologies this weekend, we don’t have to do that.” Dave’s fingers squeeze Adele’s. “It kind of goes against what the holiday’s about. Deal?”

She nods, her fingers curling around his, and a smile of her own breaking across her face. “I can live with that.” 

“Good.” 

They fluff the pillows and toss them against the headboard, and Dave pulls the extra quilt off the chair in the corner and lays it across the bottom of the bed. Despite all their movement and being inside for an hour, the house hasn’t warmed up much, and it’s going to be a cold night.

\--

About three am, Dave wakes up shivering. He’d tossed an arm out sometime before falling asleep and it feels like it’s made of ice when he pulls it back under his blankets. With a sinking feeling, he realizes it can’t be more than fifty degrees in his room. With it being a holiday weekend, there’s no way he’s going to get a repairman out before Friday.

A soft knock sounds against his door, and Dave realizes that must be what woke him up in the first place.

“Yeah?” he calls out. The door creaks open and Adele steps shyly across the threshold. 

“Sorry, I know it’s the middle of the night, but I need another blanket. I’m freezing my tits off.” She’s wrapped in a couple layers of sweaters and has her scarf wound around her neck again. 

Dave thinks the rest of them are in storage down the basement or stuck in the garage and shudders at the thought of crawling out of bed to go hunting for them. It’s bound to be even colder down there and he doesn’t even want to think about going outside. His innate middle of the night laziness kicks in and he really thinks nothing of flipping the covers back on the other side of the bed. 

“Swear to God, I’m not making a move on you. But it’ll just be easier to get in for now because I have no idea where the fuck I stored them.” 

Adele just stands there for a second, and Dave wonders if offering was a really bad idea, if she thinks he sabotaged the heater on purpose. 

“Andrew’s got two beds in his room, you’re welcome to try there, but he snores like a chainsaw sometimes and it’s probably just as cold.” 

“I’m not crawling into bed with your brother, David, shut the fuck up.” 

Adele unwraps one of her sweaters and leaves it in a woolen puddle on the floor. She gets in and immediately moves towards him. “Oh God, it’s so warm,” she sighs and Dave shifts closer to the middle of the bed. Small mercy that he decided to wear pajama pants tonight on account of the cold, because Adele rolls over and collides with his body. 

“Oh God, sorry!” Her hands are like icicles, but he captures them between his and chafes them together. 

“No saying sorry, remember, hush.” He shifts over and Adele burrows against his side, apparently more comfortable and less suspicious than he would be of his motives. 

“I didn’t do this on purpose, I swear,” Dave offers up, but Adele shakes her head against his chest. 

“I’d rather freeze in my room by myself if I thought you had. God, you’re like a space heater, you feel amazing.” 

Dave turns, so she’s wrapped comfortably in his arms and he can take advantage of the warmth she’s throwing off as well. 

He doesn’t really believe in those big signs in life, but as Adele curls into him, Dave can’t help but think that maybe he might have to start.

\--

He’s almost overly warm when he stirs the next morning, that precarious spot between too hot and just right. Dave pokes a leg out from under the quilt and turns over, when he almost inhales a mouthful of long hair. 

He peeps an eye open, seeing muted sunlight playing off a swirl of auburn on his other pillow. His arm’s numb from lying on it at an awkward angle and all of a sudden, Dave’s all too aware that Adele’s lying next to him, first thing in the morning. He’s wondering the fastest, most painless way to extricate himself from the bed before embarrassing them both, when she rolls over, curls into a ball on her other side. 

“Thank God,” he breathes to himself. That’s a wakeup call situation he doesn’t really want to get into just yet, so Dave takes a deep breath and braves the freezing cold to snatch a sweatshirt from his closet and dashes into the bathroom. 

Despite brushing his teeth before bed, Dave’s mouth still tastes sour from the wine the night before. He attacks his teeth furiously with his brush, scrubbing off his tongue, and then splashing his face with water so cold it takes his breath away. 

The harsh ablutions force him to think of other things, and in a few moments, Dave’s pretty sure that even if his unexpected bedmate is awake when he crosses the room again, his thin flannel pants won’t betray him. 

Remembering that the slippers his dad gave him for Christmas the year before are tucked right under his side of the bed, Dave grabs them and his backpack with his laptop before heading downstairs.

He checks the heater again and it still reads 71, even though the house definitely isn’t. It’s not anywhere near as cold as it was the night before, however, and Dave can feel a hint of warm air when he holds his hand up to the vent. He’ll venture down to check the pilot light in a few minutes.

It didn’t snow the night before, but the lawn is crusted with a thin layer of frost that the sun hasn’t melted yet. Opening the fridge, Dave’s confronted with a shelf full of condiments and some Kraft singles in the cheese drawer. Briefly wondering if the grocery store is still open on Thanksgiving morning, Dave dismisses the thought when he opens the freezer and sees a couple cans of frozen OJ and a loaf of bread. 

Mentally high-fiving himself, he also finds peanut butter and Pop-Tarts in the pantry when he pulls out the pitcher for juice. He also spies an open box of English Breakfast Tea in the far back reaches of the top shelf and grabs that.

Not an extravagant Thanksgiving breakfast, but surveying the spread, Dave decides it’ll have to make do. 

He turns on the parade and finds a box in the butter drawer while he waits for his toast. Dave’s slathering a piece of with jam, apologizing to Marco and swearing he’ll go for a run later when Andrew pads into the kitchen. 

“It is cold as shit in here,” Andrew complains. “I’m staying at Mom’s tonight if it doesn’t warm up.” 

“We’re going to a hotel tonight if it doesn’t warm up. Did you turn down the pilot light last time you were here?” Dave takes a bite of toast and slaps at Andrew’s hand when he goes for the other half.

“I don’t think so, it was the end of September and it wasn’t cold.” 

Dave chews thoughtfully and wonders if he can get some of the guys to take a break post-dinner to come over and check it out. 

“Did Adele sleep ok?” Andrew asks, pushing a strawberry Pop-Tart into the toaster. He opens the fridge, pokes around. “No milk?” 

“Nobody was here for two months; you want to drink milk that old?” Dave doesn’t know id he’s purposely dodging the question or just carefully stepping around it. 

Andrew wrinkles up his nose at the prospect and pours himself a glass of orange juice. They both watch the parade for a little while and Dave fires up his laptop, checks his work email for a few minutes. He hears water running upstairs and eyes the clock. It’s a little past ten. They all slept in relatively late after the early start yesterday, and they don’t have to be at his mom’s house until one. He didn’t hear any yelps of surprise, so the water heater must be working okay. Flexing his fingers, Dave realizes the heat’s kicked in and the house is getting nice and toasty. 

“No staying at Mom’s tonight for you, bud,” he jokes with Andrew, who’s finally stopped bitching about being cold.

Dave wants to watch the start of the Green Bay/Detroit game before driving over to see everyone, so as soon as the shower shuts off upstairs, he heads up. 

The door to Dave’s room is open and the covers are pulled over the top of his sheets and pillows, and other than the made bed, there’s no trace of anyone else having been there. The guest room is shut and he can hear the hum of a hairdryer from inside. 

He laughs when he sees his bathroom. Steam still clings to the mirror, and it says ‘Used your shower – it was lush!” in swoopy handwriting through it. The room smells better than Dave’s usual Old Spice body wash and American Crew shampoo, floral and warm and clean. 

It affects him, knowing Adele used his shower, even more than sleeping in the same bed. It’s intimate, somehow, and he tries to suppress the thoughts of it, but it doesn’t really work. As the hot water rushes over his back and shoulders, blissfully warm after the cold morning, Dave lets the possibilities of what could have happened earlier fill his mind. His brief contact with Adele’s skin, soft and smooth under his hands, the remembered imprint of her lips on his from the day before, the feel of her wrapped in his arms and pressed against him all night. Dave braces his arm against the wall and tilts his head down, the heavy spray pummeling his knotted muscles. It’s embarrassingly short, the amount of time it takes him to spill over into his hand, biting his lip hard to keep the groan in his chest where it belongs. 

After his shower, Adele’s message is clear again in the muggy fog of the bathroom. Wondering what she’d say if she knew what just happened (and sure that she’d rib him terribly) Dave can feel himself blushing like a schoolboy. As he wipes the mirror clean, he rolls his eyes at the giddy look on his face. 

“Jesus, get a grip,” he tells himself, rubbing the towel over his hair and skin. 

Adele opens her door as Dave starts to head downstairs. Her hair is loose around her face and she’s pretty in a dark red sweater, more laid back than he’s seen her in the last few days. 

“Good morning!” She comes towards him with arms wide and hugs Dave tight. 

“Hey. Did you sleep okay, after everything?” 

“Definitely.” Adele smiles, casts her eyes down. “Sorry about that, didn’t mean to bombard you in the middle of the night.” 

“God, no, I feel like an asshole that the damn heater didn’t work in the first place.” Dave rubs the back of his neck, hair still damp against his fingers. “I actually slept better than I have in a long time, though, so thanks.” For someone who could talk in front of millions of people without tripping over his words, Dave feels like a tongue tied idiot getting this out. “I think I really could get used to that.” 

Dave catches Adele’s eye, expects to get a tart reply, but she almost looks shy, bashful in the way she’s biting her lip and carefully watching him. “Sleeping that well, I mean.” 

Fuck. That’s not what he means at all. 

“And now that I’ve embarrassed us both, I should probably just go back downstairs.” Dave starts to turn away, but Adele’s hand is on his elbow, stopping him. She shakes her head softly and then she’s got her hands around the back of Dave’s neck and she tilts her face up. His arms close around Adele’s waist and his body relaxes into kissing her way faster than his brain can catch up.

She’s pressed full length against him and Dave’s hand shoots up to coil in her hair, wrapping a hank of it around his fist while his mouth meets hers fiercely. Dave’s impressed with the way Adele just goes for it, although he probably shouldn’t be, she’s not given him the impression that she’s someone who sits around and waits for anything. The fact that she takes what she wants - and oh God, by the way her fingers are curling into his shoulders and her mouth’s working against his, it’s clear she wants _him_ \- that’s really fucking hot. 

Then, for an instant, they break apart, just stare at each other, and Dave’s ecstatic to see the same happy-giddy-drunk with excitement expression mirrored on her face. They’re both catching their breath, and he feels the almost irrepressible urge to laugh out loud with relief. It’s like a dam’s broken, because Adele’s expression cracks into a smile, she claps her hands over her mouth and buries her face in Dave’s shoulder. He can feel her vibrating against him and he kisses the top of her head, because he feels like he can, and it’s fantastic. 

“Shit, I’ll take a wrench to the heater again tonight if this is what happens,” he jokes. 

Pulling back, a silly grin teases the corners of Adele’s mouth and she draws a deep breath. “Please, please do.” Her eyes are bright and the pink flush in her cheeks is charming. He wants to devour her in the middle of the hallway, but settles for something a little less aggressive. 

This time, Dave is the one who kisses her, feeling like he has to make up for some lost ground. His thumbs trace the line of Adele’s jaw and his lips land softly on hers, coaxing them open with a delicate ease. Making out on the landing in front of their rooms like teenagers is heady and exciting. Dave takes a minute to focus on the way her breath catches in her throat when his fingers press in to her skin and the small noise she makes when he moves down her neck to land a kiss on her collarbone. 

Dave pulls away from Adele, light-headed and feeling like this is a present he’s been waiting forever for. He wants to spend a lot longer unwrapping it, untying the bows slowly and unveiling the layers with an electric anticipation. 

“I think I’ve wanted to do that since I saw those pictures of us together,” he admits. 

“Fuck, yes.” Adele nods, wraps her arms around herself. “Oh God, Lauren’s brilliant, yeah?” 

Dave agrees and they stand there for a moment watching each other, suspended in a perfect, hazy golden moment. It’s only broken by Andrew’s voice filtering up the staircase.

“David, get your ass down here, the game’s starting!” 

It’s a rude awakening, the intrusion of someone else into their little bubble. Dave feels like he wants to clutch it to his chest with both hands, like this connection between them is breakable and fragile but Adele shrugs her shoulder. 

“Guess we should head down?” 

“If we have to.” 

“Impatient boy. We’ve got plenty of time, right?” She links her elbow through his, pats him on the arm. As they start down the staircase, Adele slips forward so only their fingers are linked. Looking down at herself and tugging at the hem of her sweater, she asks, “I meant to ask you. Am I posh enough for your Thanksgiving dinner? I don’t want to make a bad impression.” 

Dave looks at his own polo and hoodie, his favorite jeans and socked feet. He’ll probably switch it out to a sweater before they leave and grab his leather jacket, but still, she’s far more dressed up than he. “Trust me; it’s not a fancy sit-down affair. It’s just us. My mom’s so happy we’re all here this year, we could show up in pajamas and she’d be ecstatic.”

Adele looks skeptical as they walk into the living room. 

“You look beautiful,” he finishes quietly. Adele shakes her head at him, brushing off the compliment and sits down on the loveseat.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” she addresses Andrew brightly. 

Andrew starts to reply, then takes a closer look at her, twists in his seat to look at Dave standing back with his hands shoved in his pockets. “Happy Thanksgiving to both of you.” 

Dave can almost hear the shouting question in Andrew’s expression and just nods once, before turning to the kitchen. 

“Tea or juice?” he offers. “Don’t get up, I’m already over here.”

“Tea, please,” Adele answers.

“Juice me, bro,” Andrew says, holding up his glass. Dave plucks it out of his hand and pulls the pitcher out of the fridge. 

“Adele, I forgot, we don’t have milk. You still cool with tea?” 

She turns from the action on screen and nods. “That’s fine love, cheers.” 

Dave gets the same tingle as the last time, hearing her call him that, and busies himself with finding mugs and spoons.

They watch the game together for about forty-five minutes until Andrew heads upstairs to shower. 

“I don’t understand a bloody thing,” Adele says. “Which team are we supporting?” 

“Neither,” he grins, and she shoots him an exasperated look. 

“Then why the hell would you watch it?” 

“Tradition. It’s on all day, it’s what we do. Sit on the couch in turkey induced comas, watching football.” Dave gets up off the recliner and moves to the loveseat. She looks up at him with a raised eyebrow and shifts slightly so he can slide in next to her. Sighing heavily, Adele immediately swings her legs over to the other side so she can lean her head against his shoulder. “I think you lucked out though, it’s probably going to be too cold for all of us to play flag football later. So, you know, things you can be thankful for.” 

“Ok, explain this to me then, so I don’t look like an idiot later when we watch your team.”

“Chiefs aren’t on until Sunday, so this is just filler for us.” Dave smiles and he twists his fingers around a loose wave of Adele’s hair while he goes over the basics of the game.

“So even if you get the ball, you can’t score if it’s not your turn? That’s mental.” 

Dave can hear Andrew coming down the stairs and wonders if he should go back to his original seat, but Adele doesn’t move when his brother appears. She just smiles brightly at him. 

“This game’s full of shit. Give me a footie match any day.” 

“Fair enough. It really is better when you’re actually there, though.” Andrew starts to lace up his shoes. “At least it’s not baseball. Don’t even get me started.”

“Hey!” Dave interjects. “Baseball’s the great American game.” 

Andrew rolls his eyes and sinks back into the couch. “Whatever. It sucks.” 

“You’re still just jealous because they stuck you in the outfield in T-ball.” 

Adele just watches the two of them spouting insults at one another like a spectator at Wimbledon and she laughs when Dave gets flustered defending the history of baseball and covers his hand with hers. “Enough, you two.” 

Their fingers stay laced casually together until Dave notices the time and springs off the couch. “Shit, Andrew, it’s almost one, we have to go.” 

“I’m good to go. Just waiting on you, princess.”

Flipping Andrew off, Dave jogs up the stairs, unearths a couple bottles of wine from his bag, and pulls a sweater from the closet. He finds his boots in the corner and tugs them on before thundering back down to the living room. 

“Let’s get outta here.” 

\--

Just as Dave expects, it’s mayhem at his mom's house. Cousins tear through the rooms, the little ones clutching fistfuls of breadsticks and cranberry red goldfish crackers. From the kitchen wafts a delicious fragrance, he's sure his mom's been up since five babying her turkey. He kisses on the cheek the first person he sees, before plunking down the bottles of wine and shrugging out of his jacket. Dave lets Andrew take all of their jackets from his arms; he wants to be the one to introduce Adele to his family and friends. The people who they had dinner with last night greet her warmly, wrapping her in their arms and asking how her night went after she left. David likes to stand back and watch her bask in the attention, the genuine concern for her well-being from the people he loves most. It's fantastic, how she fits in like a missing piece. 

Dave finally makes his way to the back of the house, where his mother is conducting a well-timed orchestra of stirrers, choppers, and table-layers. She pauses for a moment, face lighting up when she spots him in the doorway.

"Happy Thanksgiving hon, how are you?" Beth kisses him on the cheek and he doesn't have time to form a reply before she's off again, shooing away his niece and nephews from peeking in the oven door. 

"You'll burn yourself and no one will take you to the hospital, so go somewhere else and play. Try your uncles. They're usually up for some hide and seek or something." 

Dave smiles, he remembers his mom using the same reasoning when he and Andrew were small. It provides a warm overlay to the already homey scene. 

"I know you're busy, brought some wine, did you need me to do anything?" 

Beth just shakes her head and shoos him too out of the door, with only a "send your brother in to say hello! And get these kids out of the way!" after him. 

Other relatives are clustered in the living room, planted on sofas and chairs around the big screen tv. Everyone has an opinion on the game and Dave barely listens to the commentary, he's got it tivoing at home, where he can watch it later, in peace, if he likes. The background noise of it is more than enough for him. When he sees Adele talking to his sister in the far corner of the room by the bookshelf of family photos, Dave finally eases himself down next to his stepdad, pulls Marshall onto his lap, and starts to make small talk. Grenvell's not a huge football fan unless it comes to his Chiefs, and they already talked about that last night, so they have some time to catch up that they missed out on before. 

In what seems like an instant, Beth is calling everyone into the dining room and kitchen. It's a tradition for everyone to link hands at the beginning of the Thanksgiving meal, to bow their heads for a minute while someone offers a few words of thanks. Situating himself next to Adele, Dave hopes it doesn't freak her out, the quiet family prayer. 

Her fingers find his first though, and Adele's palm settles warmly against his, squeezing tightly an instant before everyone else joins in. Andrew's called on this year to say grace, and David smiles at the witty, heartfelt words he offers up, trying not to choke up too badly when Andrew comes to the part about family not with them in body, but in spirit. The room is silent for a beat, minus a few sniffles and coughs. Adele's fingers clutch around his again, and she moves nearer to him, her arm a welcome, reassuring weight along his. Dave briefly adds his own prayer in his head, words of gratitude for keeping his family safe, his friends happy and successful, his band and crew healthy, his voice in good shape, and then, not as an afterthought, but a fitting conclusion, he asks for a little guidance. Dave prays quietly almost daily, usually in the moments before he finally falls to sleep, but somehow, multiplied by this circle of people he loves; it feels like his words might be heard that much more, so he tries to make them count. 

Andrew finishes it off with a quiet _Amen_. Everyone follows and Dave can feel his hands being clasped on both sides, before reaching over to give his aunt a hug and then catching Andrew's and his mom's eyes across the room. 

There's more than he could ever ask for in one relatively small room, and for that alone, Dave is profoundly thankful. 

"Okay everyone, just a reminder. Go find your name at the table, grab your plate and then come get your food from the kitchen."

Dave ambles through the open doors, pleased to find that Beth's seated him and Adele next to each other. 

"Oh good," she says from his side. "Your family's lovely, but I'm chuffed we're here." 

"Me too." Dave looks over at her, wants to drop a kiss onto her temple, but refrains. He settles for putting a hand on her waist and guiding her towards the kitchen island laden with food. "So. I hope you're hungry, because the whole point of today is to eat yourself into a nap." 

"I think I can handle that," she quips. "So, is it turkey, mash, veg, all that?" 

Dave moves behind her and points to the various tureens and serving dishes. "All of that, yeah. But most important part is really the stuffing." He grasps the spoon and puts a scoop on her plate. "This is the whole reason for Thanksgiving." 

"Hmm. You've already proven you can be trusted so I'll take your word for it." 

He guides her through the sweet potato casserole, the creamed spinach, and the cranberry sauce, then forks a couple slices of turkey on his plate before dousing it all in gravy. Laying a roll on his plate, Dave moves out of line and goes back to the table. 

"You know we can get seconds, right bro?" Andrew's seated across from he and Adele, and from the looks of it, he's already halfway through his plate. Beth let him go first for saying grace. 

"Right behind you." 

The wine is opened and Dave's glad he didn't fill up on appetizers because dinner is out of this world. They all sit at the table, eating and talking for almost two hours, sharing memories of Thanksgivings past. Candles flicker on the table even though it's still daylight out, and it lends everyone a golden glow seated around the table. 

There's a reason- lots of them - Thanksgiving is Dave's favorite holiday, and the easy camaraderie is one of them. The creeping lethargy is another one. Stuffed so he can't eat another bite, Dave gathers the plates from the people around him and takes them to the kitchen. He's surprised to see Adele right behind him, with their wineglasses in her hands. 

"You should go sit back down. I've got this." 

Adele gives him the look, and fills their empty glasses with the bottle Dave points out on the counter. "You're a bit bossy, aren't you?" 

"Just a little." Scraping the dishes into the trash, Dave goes back to the dining room for the second stack and then pushes the sleeves of his sweater up and starts to run the hot water. Adele moves past him to lay dish towels on the counter. "Really, you can go relax. Drew should be here in a few to help." 

"David, stop, please. Might it occur to you that I like being around you?" She smiles prettily before taking a sip from her glass. 

"Oh. Okay." He can't help himself from smiling, just as he couldn't through the duration of the meal, when he caught her eye or heard her laugh. Squirting dish soap into the sink, and yet again cursing his mother for using her favorite antique non-dishwasher safe china for twenty four people, Dave picks up a sponge and starts to wash the dishes. "So? How was your first Thanksgiving dinner?"

Adele leans against the counter and groans, patting her stomach. "Monstrous. I'm probably totally useless for the next two days." 

"Oh come on, there's still dessert in a few hours. And then there are turkey sandwiches at midnight. There's a tradition to follow here, sugar, you can't just bulldoze it down because you're full. Buck up!" 

Adele wrinkles her nose in horror. "You can actually eat again?" She starts to rinse plates and silverware, setting them on the counter before picking up a towel to dry them. 

"You can too, after a nap. We build it right into the schedule." Dave likes the feel of Adele next to him, her elbow brushing his side as they work in tandem, washing and drying dishes. 

"Aww, you're already done?" Andrew saunters into the room, sipping from a bottle of Miller Lite. "Should have waited for me." 

"We'd still be here washing tomorrow morning if I waited for you." 

"Mom was talking to me about work." Andrew just shrugs his shoulder and picks up a handful of silver, laying it carefully back in its velvet lined case.

“What work? Being a professional house sitter?” Dave runs some more hot water into the sink and dodges the bottle cap his brother lobs at his head.

“Without me, your house would be a mess, your dog would go unwalked and unfed, and you wouldn’t get shit done. I’m like a housewife who doesn’t get laid.”

Dave snorts into his wineglass. “You wanna get laid for all that?” 

“Not by you. But a little appreciation goes a long way.”

"Boys, boys. Not in front of the company. What would your mother think?" Adele laughs into her glass though and winks at Andrew. 

"Whatever, Adele's a way better dishwasher than you anyways." Dave catches her eye and smiles. "She said she was pretty tired though, so you can finish with the last couple plates while I find our guest a place to nap that’s not covered in kids."

"The game's on!" Andrew protests, but when Dave shakes his head, Andrew just grumbles and moves into the place he vacates. 

"Thanks bud." Dave dries his hands off and picks up his wineglass, pulling Adele with him towards the staircase. 

"Want to see my room?"

\--

Upstairs, in the room that used to be wallpapered with Soundgarden and KC Royals posters, Beth now stashed her craft supplies in the closet and had remade the bed with a puffy down comforter and half a dozen throw pillows. 

“I have to say, it’s a little more -- feminine than I was expecting, David,” Adele offers gingerly. He can tell she’s sweetly trying to be diplomatic and she’s barely keeping her laughter in. 

“I’m just trying to keep you on your toes,” he quips, and turns her around towards the window. It faces onto the street and the neighborhood beyond, into the fading glow of the sunset. Slipping his arms around Adele’s waist, Dave pulls her back until he can rest his chin on her shoulder. “Just think, more sports and rock, less yellow paint.” 

She turns slightly and the curve of her cheek brushes his nose. “Yellow is VERY rock and roll,” she assures him primly. Relaxing back against his chest, they watch evening fall together. Adele stifles a yawn with the back of her hand and he turns her around. 

“There we go; the tryptophan’s finally kicking in. Best part of Thanksgiving coming up. Wanna take a nap with me?” 

Adele looks at the ceiling, purses her lips like she’s going to refuse. “Won’t your family miss us?” 

“Told you it’s built into the schedule today, but if they do, they can damn well deal with it.” 

Dave pulls Adele towards the bed and sweeps the pillows off before pulling back the covers and sitting down to pull off his boots. Adele kicks out of her flats and moves to the other side. One moment she’s standing, the next she’s sprawled across the mattress, feet sliding under the sheets and stretching languorously. 

“This feels amazing,” she moans and Dave pulls off his sweater, rolls over to face her. 

“So, really, what’d you make of your first Thanksgiving? Other than filling, of course.” He reaches out, strokes a hand down from her shoulder to her hip. Scooting forward, Dave inches in until they’re face to face. 

“Brilliant. Any holiday with assigned naptime is okay with me, despite the blatant anti-English overtones, of course.” Adele’s hand is tucked up under her chin, the other curving over her head. “Frankly, I’m surprised no one tossed me out on my arse.” 

“Well, we make a policy of not tossing the good arses out, it’s kind of a thing with our family,” Dave jokes and then closes the minute distance between them with a kiss. 

Adele edges under Dave, wraps her arm around his ribs and rests it between his shoulders. He shifts over her, reaches up to plow both hands through her hair and hold her face still for his lips. Dave takes his sweet time kissing her, mapping her mouth with his own, thumb tracing the lines of her jaw and chin, curling back around the line of her throat. Adele’s sweater has a high neck, keeping his lips from tasting her skin where it’s scented by her perfume. 

Adele makes little noises when his hands roam down past her arms to her waist, sounds of approval that drive him on. Dave slides his palms past the barrier of her clothing, fingers gracing the soft skin of her sides. 

Adele wriggles and shies away from him when he curls them in, breaking away with a laugh. “That tickles, you bastard, stop it!” 

Dave smiles against her mouth, flutters his fingers again, and she shoves him off with a feigned pout. 

“Are you ticklish too?” Adele tries her luck, digging into his sides lightly right under his ribs, and he can’t keep the laugh from bubbling out of his throat. 

“Yes, so don’t even try,” Dave’s hands fly up to cover hers a moment too late, trapping them over his skin, exclaiming, “God, you win, ok I’ll stop, Adele, please stop!” 

Adele smiles up at him, a satisfied grin and then she backs up so she’s leaning against the headboard and he wraps his arms around her, legs akimbo across the mattress and head resting against her chest. 

Dave’s always been a cuddler, the boundaries of personal space barely a suggestion to him most of the time. After this morning and now, he’s pleased to find that under her initial reserve, Adele’s the same. She strokes her fingers through his hair, the nails lighting up the nerves in his scalp, causing a riot of delicious shivers to dance up and down his spine. He’s almost purring under her hands. 

It’d probably be a pathetic sight if it didn’t feel so fucking amazing.

“Were you a cat in another life?” she asks him. 

Shooting a silly, blissed out smile up towards her, Dave just shrugs. “Maybe? This is incredible.” 

“Oh, you’re far too easy to please.” There’s a hint of laughter in her voice, though, and when she slides down to get comfortable, Dave settles his face against the warm softness of her torso and can feel himself slipping under. 

\--

The room is bathed in full darkness when he wakes up groggily from their nap. Dave pulls back, disentangles himself from Adele’s clasped arms, and sits up. Adele stirs next to him, stifling a yawn with a closed fist. 

“We keep doing this,” she offers sleepily, “and you’re going to get the wrong impression of me.” 

“I’m the one who keeps draping myself all over you,” Dave answers. “Feel free to tell me to fuck off at your earliest convenience.” 

“God, fuck off.” 

Dave pushes himself off the bed and starts tugging his boots on. “See? I can take orders with the best of them.” 

Adele’s arms circle Dave and she presses herself to his back. “Except I’m usually full of shit, so don’t listen to me.” Adele kisses the back of his neck, right under his hairline. “You can stay for a minute,” she urges. 

He turns and frames her face with his hands again, realizing he’s already developed an affinity for touching Adele as much as possible, keeping his hands on or near her when she’s close. “I’m here.” 

Dave’s never been one to shrug off an obvious, cheesy romantic gesture, likes the way he really can’t help but wear his heart on his sleeve, and he also likes that even though Adele is assuredly still a bit battered from whatever she’s been through, she still responds sweetly to his clumsy advances. 

“Gotta say, I’m feeling pretty thankful right now, Miss Adkins,” he tells her before dropping a kiss onto her lips. 

“You won’t be for much longer if you keep calling me that,” Adele retorts, but rests her forehead against his. “Do you think this is crazy? Or that it’s all barreling towards us too fast?”

Dave stands and shrugs, offering his hand to her. “If it is, should we stop?” 

Smoothing down her shirt and running her fingers through her hair, Adele shakes her head. “If I was in my right mind, I might say yes, but I don’t think so, no.”

Redressed and fairly presentable, Dave clasps her fingers to his own as they go back downstairs. Wherever this brief moment in time ends up leading, it looks like it’s working out pretty well for both of them now. 

\--

Andrew waves from his spot on the couch, surrounded by relatives. He has two triangles of pie on his plate in addition to the one he’s working on. The 49ers and Ravens game is flickering on the tv, about halfway through the second quarter.

“You two missed the sweet victory of the Cowboys sucking it hard. Miami killed it in the last quarter. Mom’s got pie in the kitchen.”

There are few seats left in the living room without people sprawled across them in a post-turkey stupor, so Dave leads Adele through the doorway, hoping for some space at the breakfast table. 

“You kids sleep well?” Beth asks without a hint of irony or suspicion in her voice. Dave shoots her a look, but she just ducks her head with a smile and offers him a plate with pumpkin and apple pie on it. 

“Sorry for being so rude and sleeping all afternoon,” Adele apologizes. 

“I have a feeling you probably needed it,” Beth reassures her, and presents the desserts to Adele. “What sounds good?” She points to the variety of pies and adds that Dave’s cousin made tiramisu that’s in the fridge, if they want to try it too. Adele chooses pumpkin and pecan pie and then they sit. 

Spearing a bite of apple with his fork, Dave offers it to Adele. “It’s really good, try some.” 

"I told you, I don't really like fruit usually. I'm kind of a chocolate girl." 

"It's really good though," he coaxes. 

"Fine." Her lips close around the mouthful and she draws back off the fork. Adele’s eyes burn into his and she offers him a challenging stare when she darts her tongue out to catch a stray crumb. Chewing thoughtfully, Adele agrees. 

“Mmm, I like it.” 

Dave feels his mouth go dry, and even though he finishes the plate in front of him, his mind isn’t really on pie anymore. 

\--

Later in the evening, armed to the teeth with leftovers (and Andrew clutching a jug of milk from the fridge in the garage for breakfast), the three of them pile back into the car to head back to the house. They decided to forgo the lights at City Center because the crowds are always a mess and there’s nowhere to park and it always looks better on tv, anyhow. Plus, home should be warmer and Dave can get out of his boots. 

Halfway back, the phone buzzes with Beth’s mobile number and Dave hands it over to Adele. “Can’t answer, I’m driving,” he explains. 

“Hello?” she answers politely, and a smile breaks across her face. “No really, I had a wonderful day, thank you again. It was splendid.”

Dave watches her in the glow of the dashboard lights and sees her nodding along and murmuring. 

“I think that would be fine, no, my flight isn’t until Saturday morning. I would love that.” Adele looks back to Andrew and over to Dave and shakes her head, like Beth can see the gesture. “They’ll probably find something to amuse themselves, I’d imagine. You’re right.” 

Dave cocks his head to the side but doesn’t ask what’s going on. Adele just laughs and settles back further into her seat. 

“Brilliant. I’ll see you then. Cheers!” Another nod and then a soft, “good night to you both. I will.” 

She clicks the phone off and puts it in the cupholder. “Your mum’s invited me to go shopping tomorrow.” 

“Ughh, Black Friday,” Andrew groans from the backseat. “You know you’ll have to get up at the crack of dawn, right?” 

“She said we weren’t leaving until half-nine, so it won’t be too bad.” Looking over to Dave, she smiles. “I’m sure you boys have plenty to do without entertaining me for a few hours.” 

If the weather held, Dave had planned to mow the lawn and do some yard work, maybe go for a run. He finds himself a little twitchy at the thought of Adele being gone all morning – maybe all day – with his mom. 

It isn’t really to do with what they might talk about, he knows his mother will lightly pry but not delve too deep into anything terribly personal. Dave’s just spent the last three solid days in Adele’s company, and he likes her proximity. 

It is then, Dave realizes with a burst of light and a fucking symphony in his head, that he’s totally sunk. 

\--

When they walk into the house, Dave registers the heat still pumping from the vents, toasty and warm. 

“Thank God,” Andrew exclaims, shoving his armful of rations from their dinner in the fridge. “I was going to go back to Mom’s house and steal the couch.” Looking from Dave to Adele, he grins. “That, or bunk in with one of you. Don’t know if you were aware, but Dave’s pretty handy in a no-heat situation.” 

Dave just stands there, speechless and red-faced and he’s amazed that Adele can school her face into a blithe mask of indifference. 

“Cheers, I’ll have to remember that if there’s another cock-up with the furnace tonight,” she answers, shrugging out of her coat and draping it over the back of a chair, the red a bright spot in the white kitchen. “Thanks for the helpful advice, Andrew.” 

Andrew heads over to the couch and commandeers the remote. “No problem, just doing my duty as attentive co-host.” He shoots Dave a wry grin and Dave just wants to throttle the smug look off his brother’s face. “Your move,” Andrew mouths and clicks over to Sports Center.

“Yeah, I think I’m going to go change.” Dave heads upstairs, slipping out of his jacket and his sweater before he reaches his bedroom door. He hangs the button down in the closet and toes out of his boots, trading his clothes for a pair of flannel pj pants and a thermal shirt. Dave wonders if it’ll be weird, a pajama party with his brother and Adele, but, honestly, he really doesn’t care. Getting to lounge around the house in his comfortable clothes is a rarity, and he’s on vacation, and if Adele can handle the barrage of his family and a holiday dinner and sleeping in his bed, she won’t pass out at the sight of him in pjs. 

She’s coming up the stairs when Dave leaves his room and she smiles at his attire, stopping right before him. “I like the polar bears,” she says, before pinching one and running the flannel between her fingertips. 

“You can put yours on too,” Dave offers, but Adele just shakes her head. 

“I wasn’t really planning on a slumber party. I don’t know if I really have anything appropriate for boys’ night in.” 

“I’m sure whatever you pick should be fine,” Dave starts, leaning down to kiss her, but Adele dances out of his grasp. 

“Want to help me find something?” The question lingers there, a saucy invitation layered under the words that Dave wonders if he heard correctly. 

The silence wears on a beat too long, and then Adele buries her face in her hand, shaking her head until her hair sweeping about her shoulders and she’s hidden by the curtain of it. “Or not, obviously,” comes the reply from somewhere deep within. 

He’s not quite sure what she wants him to do, agree or turn around and leave her be, so Dave just stands in the middle of the carpet and waits for her to finally look up at him. 

“Shit, this is so awkward,” Adele admits, but Dave doesn’t quite agree. She’s funny and real and the little glimpses of her that show beneath the cool composure and the big statements she just blurts out in laughter are just making him like her more. 

“I don’t know if you’re kidding or not,” he offers gamely. “I could be easily persuaded to assist you though, if that’s what you want.”

“But really, is it what _you_ want?” Blowing a piece of her hair out of her face, Adele crosses her arms over her chest and holds tight and it’s a vulnerable, defensive pose combined with the question that’s, frankly, upsetting to Dave. “It’s not like you have a choice, I’m so smooth, the way I’m barging in and just throwing myself wantonly at you.”

“I invited you to my house and introduced you to my mom and my family. On Thanksgiving.” He points to his bedroom door. “After last night and this morning - hell, most of the last week - I don’t know what could have possibly convinced you that I don’t want you here.” 

Dave starts to move closer but halts himself; she looks like she might want a moment to herself, despite his gut response to just wrap her up in his arms and try to reassure her. 

After a few moments of just looking at her, Dave defaults to words, which usually escape him, but right now seem to be fighting one another to fall from his lips first. 

“You know, Adele, you keep going on about how nice a person I am – but I wouldn’t have just asked you here, into my house and my family and my life if I didn’t want you to be a part of it. And regardless of where this goes-,” and her eyes are still trained on his, despite her posture still warning him to stay at a distance, “and I’m not lying when I say I hope it keeps going, because I thought it was obvious that I’m really into you – brief or long term, this isn’t just some joke to me.” 

There’s a furrow between Adele’s brows while he talks and really, Dave can’t believe the words are still coming out of his mouth, but he just can’t stop them, rushing forward like a river after a snow melt.

“I’m just – I’m not an asshole, Adele, and I would never take advantage of you or being here to pull something just to get laid. So please, stop treating me like I am. Maybe I need to be better about showing it, I don’t know, or maybe you’re used to something else, but let’s just lay it out. I want you. Not because I feel like it’s my right, or whatever, because I invited you to stay here, but because I’m interested in you.” Pushing forward, he just continues, despite the way that she’s silent. 

“So, yes, I’m attracted to you. And with the added bonus of liking you as a person. I like that you make me laugh and you get along with my mom and my dog and my family and that you give me shit right back and that you flew halfway across the country to meet people you didn’t know because it shows you have balls and I love that. I don’t know how to prove to you that I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass. Because I’m not and if you don’t like me being honest with you, then you’ll just have to deal.” 

Dave doesn’t know where it comes from, but he feels lighter when it’s all out in the open. And he doesn’t know if it makes him feel better that she knows it or that he can acknowledge it himself in front of her, but regardless, it’s out there and he can’t take it back now, even if he wanted to.

“So?’ he offers Adele an opening, because she still hasn’t said anything, and despite his grand declaration, maybe she still doesn’t believe him. “Now I’m clearly the awkward one.” 

“I think you blew right past awkward into completely bonkers.” Adele’s looking at him like she’s not before, like he’s someone new who she’s never seen and Dave doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. Her assessment of him is thorough and Adele takes her time before speaking again while the tension mounts in his hallway, sticky and almost viscous between them. 

“I like you too, for what it’s worth,” Adele offers, and Dave can feel the high of the last few days start to vanish, the bubbles of it pop and dissipate around him. He’s not professed he wears his heart on his sleeve for nothing, because Dave can feel his face fall and there’s nothing he can do to hide it from her. 

“For what it’s worth?” he says weakly. “What is it worth, to you?” 

She’s quiet, twisting the end of her scarf around her finger. 

“Everything,” Adele admits to him softly. “It’s kind of everything.” Her eyes dart towards the stairs and she shrugs her shoulders. “Should we maybe talk about this somewhere more private?” 

“Oh yeah. Yeah, of course.” Dave’s on autopilot, pushing his bedroom door open and offering her a seat. Adele pushes past him and sits down, a heavy sigh passing through her lips. She waits another minute or two before continuing and the mounting anxiety’s going to about do him in. 

“I mean what I said. That’s why it’s so bloody hard, David. You don’t know how difficult for me to just stand there and want to believe everything that you’re saying is true.” 

“I know you think don’t really know me – and hell, I probably wouldn’t believe me either.” He sits beside Adele, covering her hand, weaving his fingers through hers. “But it is.” 

“I really do believe you, David, and despite it all, I really think you’re right, even though everything in me is just, like, screaming at me with hands waving, warning me not to go for it.” Adele leans forward, props her chin on her hand and looks over at Dave. “This isn’t easy, you know. I mean, for starters, we live in two different countries, for God’s sake.” 

He squeezes her hand lightly. “Would it really be easier if you lived up the road, though? I mean, with two separate schedules, we’d probably never see one another anyhow. Maybe it’s easier, because we both know what we’re getting into.” 

“But what are we getting into, David? Tell me.” 

“Honestly?” Dave fits his hand along Adele’s jaw, tilting her face up so she’s looking at him. “I want more. More than this weekend. I want to see you again when you’re in LA and I want to come to England and see where you live and meet your mom and I want to grab all those days and moments we can in between. I know it's scary, fuck, I'm terrified, but it's how I feel." 

“I know you’ll hate it, though. You’ll hate me, when I’m exhausted and I’m cranky and mean, and all I do is snap and cry and bitch to you. And then you’ll stop calling and then it will be terrible. Why would you bother even trying?” 

“Jesus, Adele. Because you’ll never know if good things can happen if you don’t put yourself out there.”

"I know I’m supposed to believe that. But it’s so bloody hard for me."

Dave pulls away. “You’re not the only one who’s loved and lost someone. I've had shitty relationships in the past too.” 

She flinches almost imperceptibly at the words and Dave wants to take them back. 

“I don’t think I am, honestly, I don’t,” Adele replies quietly. “I just think you’re a lovely person, and I don’t want to ruin this with my bullshit.” 

“Do you feel like our roles are reversed here, though? I mean, usually it's the man giving excuses why we can't commit to something." Dave looks into her eyes. "If you hate me, you can tell me. I'm a big boy, I promise." 

"I wouldn't know," she jokes and Dave can see a glimmer of the girl who's been with him all week reemerge. 

"What, now you want to find out?" he asks. “After all that, now you finally think I’m being sincere?” 

"C’mon, don’t you want to get in my knickers?" Adele asks cheekily. “Isn’t that what the whole speech was about?” 

“It wasn’t, really, but thanks for boiling me down to a typical douchebag dude, I really appreciate it.” Dave feels petulant and not a little bratty at her accusation, prickly after their whole exchange. He tugs away and just sits for a moment on his own, wondering how and why the hell he’d gotten himself into this mess. 

The girl sitting across the bed from him reminds him, though, when she leans over and pulls on his arm. “Do you know how much I appreciate your sweet gestures and how careful you are with me?” Angling herself into Dave’s vision, Adele pulls his chin down to look at her. “You’re honestly one of the nicest people I’ve ever met,” and Dave groans a little, because of course she’d think that, and Adele tsks at him a little before continuing “and despite what everyone says, nice is a lovely switch. It’s brilliant.” She fits her head onto his shoulder and pulls Dave close. “But nice boys can still have improper feelings every now and again, right?” 

He swallows hard at the silky way she speaks such prim words into his ear and just how hot they sound coming from her lips. Motioning to the sizable mattress they're both sitting on, Dave ekes out, "I'm not saying we're in, like, a prime place for it or anything, but we're kind of in a prime place for it." 

"And then what, if I said yes?" Adele pulls back, narrows her eyes for a moment, the look she gets when she's turning something over in her mind. "What would you do if I took you up on it," she ventures. 

Leaning over, Adele lays both of her hands down on either side of Dave's hips. She stretches across him, her face right in front of his. He just has to move his mouth forward an inch to meet her lips. Dave wants to, can feel himself responding to her nearness, the heat of her so close, but he holds himself back, wants her to come to him this time.

"What's stopping you, Adele?" he challenges. 

Adele cants herself into him, her hand going around the back of Dave's neck. Her kiss tastes more urgent this time, not soft and slow like before, not new like the first time. This one is heady and sharp with need and Dave finds himself pulling her into him, wrapping his hands around Adele's hips and bringing her close. She settles on her knees on either side of Dave's thighs, and the thin flannel pants don't conceal anything when Adele sinks lower. 

"Oh," she says lightly against his mouth, and she pulls back, dragging her teeth along his lower lip. "You weren't kidding." Her voice is rough and smooth at the same time, filling in all of the cracks from the last thirty minutes. 

"I told you how I felt," Dave says, his breath catching in his throat when Adele rocks back in his lap. "You just didn't believe me. It's a reoccurring theme with us." 

"Hmm?" she says against his ear, her mouth dragging across his cheek to bite at his earlobe. "Tell me what you mean."

"Oh God." Dave splays his palms around the curve of her waist and pushes her down just as he thrusts up. "I tell you the truth, you don't believe me, and then I prove you wrong." He punctuates each phrase with a kiss to her temple, her cheek, her neck. "Have I led you astray yet?" 

"I think you might be doing a cracking job of that right now," she quips and then when the back of his hand brushes the underside of her bra, there's a quick intake of breath. "But maybe we should stop talking, just for a minute, yeah?" 

"Good plan, we can fight later." Dave flips his hand over so his palm cradles the weight of her breast and he flicks his thumb lightly over the weave of her sweater. "You think we can get rid of this?" 

Adele pulls away and tugs it over her head without guile, throwing it to the side. Her hair flies every which way because of the static, so it's wild and clinging to her shoulders, tumbling over the strap of her bra. "Your turn." 

Dave has no problem stripping off his shirt, has it off in a split second. Their skin is warm where it meets and the soft press of her chest against his is amazing.

It's all pretty PG, really, until Adele kicks out one of her legs and then the other, and she's sitting down fully on his lap. 

"There we go," she exclaims, and rotates her hips over his. 

"You don't play fair," he ekes out between clenched teeth. 

“I never promised I would,” Adele throws back. Dave keeps his eyes on hers as he kisses his way down her throat and collarbone, fingers kneading into the satin covering her. She lets him play for a minute, pushing her breasts together and burying his chin in the hollow between them, scraping lightly with his beard and smiling to himself when she squeaks in protest that it tickles. 

Dave's always been a boob man, he just likes them, the feel of them against his skin and the look of them under clothing, tempting and teasing him. His fingers easily find the hooks at the back of her bra and then with a snap, she's spilling out of the garment, flesh pale like his, creamy and soft against his palms. The tips brush against his skin, firm and insistent and Dave dips his face into the valley of her cleavage again, indulging his desire for a few moments with licks and gentle tugs of his teeth. When he finally gets her riled up enough so her head's tossed back, breathing his name through the open circle of her lips, Dave relents just a little. 

"Now who's being unfair," Adele breathes, hand drawing lightly down his chest, fingertips trailing over hair and the ink in his skin, alighting trails of flared nerve endings in her wake. 

Dave captures her hand between them, the rough crinkle of his stomach against the softness of hers, and he likes the contrast. It's very feminine, the curve and flare from her chest to her waist to her hips, ladylike in a way he isn't used to. 

It occurs to him that her shape is a cause for debate amongst the press, lots of people not seeing past it for the beauty she is, and Dave is feeling pretty damn pleased with himself that he gets to be with her like this. 

"What?" she murmurs. “When you stop, it gives me time to think about what a fool I’m being right now, all tits out and naked in your lap.” 

Dave just shakes his head. "Just thinking how lovely you look right now," he says. Despite the fact that she doesn't ever seem to lack confidence in how she looks, and that's one of the things Dave likes about her, he still feels moved to tell her. 

A surprised smile starts at the corner of Adele's mouth and her eyebrows knot together for a moment and she's biting her lip. 

"You don't have to say that," she admonishes, kissing him. "I'm a wreck." He disagrees completely, the way her hair is messy around her face and her cheeks are flushed with desire just add to her loveliness. 

"I just wanted to say it, ok?" Dave pulls a fistful of her hair through his hand, the tangled silk of it smooth and cool against his heated skin. "I don't think you've ever looked better." 

"Don't try and make me cry, I'm already pushing the limits here, and if you get me all snotty and gross, you've only yourself to blame." 

“I’ll shut up then.” Dave pushes his lips against hers, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, kissing her deeply while she stutters her hips over him. 

After kissing Adele, he’s not sure for minutes or hours, Dave pulls back. They’re twined together, legs tangled and arms wrapped against one another. The friction from the way she’s rubbing into him is just enough to keep him on the brink of sanity.

“What?” she asks breathlessly, before reattaching her lips to his neck and working slowly across his collarbone. 

Dave squeezes his eyes shut, can’t believe he’s about to suggest what he is. "We, uh, don't have to do this tonight, you know, having my brother right down the hall isn't very romantic." 

"You want to wait?" Adele pulls her mouth free when she looks up at him and her lips are red and wet and he's ready to dive back in and taste her again. 

"I'm just saying we can hold off if you don't feel comfortable. It's an option." 

“Oh, we’re talking about options?” She wraps her hair up in a knot, it's damp from being trapped between them, and leans back. Popping the button on her pants free, she gets out of her them a lot more gracefully than Dave could have in that position. 

"You look awfully warm," Adele teases, slipping a hand beneath Dave's ass to clutch at the back of his pants, drawing them down his legs and past his knees. Sliding her hands all the way back up, starting at his ankles and scraping along to his thighs, Dave can't suppress the shiver her touch elicits. 

Her breasts rub against his boxers and Adele slides over his waistband. 

"Do you want me to stop, is that an option?" she teases him, fingers covering the line of his dick straining against the stretchy cotton. Adele's grip tightens and she leans down, breathes over him, so close the heat from her mouth causes his cock to jump. 

"Only if you want to," Dave admits, and Adele grins up at him. 

"Brilliant. Because I'm a big fan of this." 

Adele peels Dave's boxers from his hips and at the first touch of her palm wrapping around him, Dave wants to jump out of his skin. 

"Jesus fuck, Adele." 

"Noble company," she says before shooting him a look, her eyes going dark as she dips her head. He wants to watch, watch her beautiful mouth surround him, has every intention of it, but when her lips engulf the head of his dick, Dave's pupils roll back and his eyes shut. 

He can feel her cheeks hollow around him and it's hot and slick inside of Adele's mouth, and she knows exactly what to do with her tongue and fingers to drive him nuts. Dave thinks - knows - he's not going to last very long if she keeps it up. 

Pulling back off of him completely, Adele starts the slow descent again, pulling him slowly into her mouth, tongue dragging along the underside of his dick, teeth scraping lightly on the head, just enough to catch each and every nerve in his lower body on fire. 

He's careful not to push her, even though he wants to shove himself all the way in. The restraint is causing his thighs to tremble and his grip on it grows weaker when Adele starts moving faster. She’s got her hand around the base of his cock too, squeezing and releasing, working him with the rhythm of her mouth. 

It's almost too much when she draws him particularly deep and Dave has to call on his last thread of sanity to push her off, or else he's going to blow down her throat and he wants- needs- this to keep going. 

"What?" Adele’s voice is maddeningly low and sandpaper rough, wiping her lips with the edge of her hand. “I wasn’t done with you.” 

"Kiss me," he begs, and tugs her up to his mouth. "Oh God, that was amazing," he mumbles against her lips. 

"You should have let me finish," she protests, before he swirls his tongue over hers, the now-familiar taste of her mouth mingled with him, salty on her lips. 

"Nope, it's my turn." 

Dave slides his leg free and swings over the side of the mattress. Adele is beneath him now, laid out on his sheets like a gift. She's somehow still wearing her underwear, which to Dave seems unfair because he's buck naked and hard against her thigh, and he thinks that maybe they need to even out the playing field.

He leans down, cradles her face in his hands and kisses her again, slow and deep and long, until Adele’s writhing beneath him. Her thighs widen until he can settle himself between them and his hands slide down over her body, thumbs rasping over her skin until they reach the band pressing into the skin of her hips. 

“Can I?” he asks, hope and want mingling in his voice. 

“Fuck, please, yes,” she answers, nodding and lifting her hips so he can tug the black fabric none-too-gently down her thighs. Dave tips his chin up and trails it down Adele’s neck, his beard prickling and softly abrading her throat. The motion wreaks delicious little moans out of Adele that make it hard for Dave not to just urge her knees further apart and bury himself until they’re both pushed over the edge. He finds he likes to keep his eyes open, watch the varied play of emotions across her face when he rubs over her skin. Sliding a hand back up the length of her leg, Dave lays his cheek against her stomach while his fingers tease at the top of her thigh. Inching down further, he settles his mouth just south of her belly button, tongue working a slick trail down while he eases her up. 

Flicking his eyes back to her face, Dave sees Adele's head tilted to the side, eyes fluttered half shut. She's so still under him, almost frozen beneath his fingers. 

"You still good?" Dave asks, pulling back an inch or two. She just moves her head slightly and he moves back up the bed so he's lying alongside her and they're face to face. "You sure?" 

"Yeah, yeah, I am." 

"Do you not want me to do this? Cause I actually really like it." Dave feels a little flustered. 

"No, I've just never been good at this part," she leans in and breathes against his neck.

"We don't have to, if this is all too much, I promise you, it's okay to stop. You can tell me." Dave traces a thumb over her temple and follows it with a kiss. 

"No, God no, I want to, I'm just so - bloody hell, this is awkward." Adele tips her face back up, her mouth urgent where her words are tentative. "If it's all the same to you, I'd fast-forward a bit, if we could.” Nipping lightly at his lower lip, she draws back just an inch or two. "Please?"

"No, I mean, yeah, of course, you tell me." Dave shakes his head. "How far into the future are we going?" 

"The part where you sink into me and I can't breathe for the feel of it. Does that sound good to you?" 

Dave's embarrassed by the groan that comes from his throat and the way he can't even speak, just nods wordlessly as Adele pulls him over the top of her, pushing his hands down. His fingers fumble over her skin, but Adele's hand moves over his, guiding him to where she wants to be touched, slick and warm against his fingers. 

"Right there." Her hips jerk slightly when his finger slips in, curving up to press against her. Dave mouths against her shoulder and moves faster against her. When she's breathing his name, begging more than speaking, Dave sinks his teeth into her skin and flicks his thumb over her, rubbing until she's shuddering against him. 

He pulls away, looks at the pink mark he's worked into her pale skin and moves up to Adele's mouth, coaxing a soft kiss from her lips. 

"You good?" he asks, pushing hair off her forehead and tucking it behind her ear. 

"Marvelous," she cracks and Dave lies down on the pillow next to her head. 

After a few moments in the dim room, listening to each other breathe, Adele's arm reaches over and her fingers close around him, still throbbing and insistent. "What are we going to do about you, David? This can't be comfortable." 

He shifts under her touch and his hips thrust up into her grip. "Pretty fucking amazing, I think." 

Adele captures his earlobe between her teeth. "And?" 

"And you keep doing that, I can't pull myself away to go try and find a condom in the bathroom. And that would be," he hisses through his teeth when her thumb presses right under the crown of his dick and an arrow shoots straight down to his toes, "really unfortunate." 

Adele pulls her hand away and presses it against his chest. "Stay here." 

She eases off the bed and into the bathroom, pulling open drawers and opening his cabinets. 

"Try under the sink." 

He manages a smile when he hears a crow of triumph and Adele emerges, her hair a tousled cloud around her face and cheeks flushed pink, brandishing a gold strip of foil. 

"Guess we're both lucky," she says lowly, kissing him while peeling the wrapping away from the condom and sliding it down around him. Her fingers close around the base of his dick and squeeze, just for a second and Dave moans against her mouth.

"Temptress." 

She swings a leg over his thighs and looks down at him. "Do you mind?" Urging forward, she slides until she's poised over the head of his cock.

Dave shakes his head, "Hell no." He moves his hips and she backs just out of reach. "Please. Just move." 

She smiles down at him, and clenches her thighs, sinking forward. Dave wants to scream once he's in, it's all in one movement that he's engulfed in her heat and it's almost too much to deal with. 

There aren't many words after that, Dave doesn't know how she can back away and tighten around him at the same time, he's trying to concentrate on not blowing everything three strokes in, because it's pretty fucking phenomenal and he doesn't want it to end, but at the same time, he feels like he's going to come apart if he doesn't. 

Adele looks at him and leans down, capturing his mouth with hers while she rocks forward, and kind of rotates her hips and moans a little when he bucks up. 

"Exactly, David, exactly." They continue and it's kind of maddening the way she's moving because it's almost, but not quite enough for him. It works for her though, because her eyes close and her fingers grip in his hair and Dave can feel her rippling around his dick, quietly speaking his name over and over while she comes again around him. Then his fingers clench into her sides and he's holding on for all he's got because just the feel of her makes him want to blow when she pulls back and shoves down hard. 

"Your turn, c'mon."

That's it, Dave thinks he half-shouts Adele's name as he comes, maybe apologizes for not lasting longer, but he can't be sure, can't even remember to breathe while she tightens around him and he can't stop. 

He doesn't know if it's seconds or hours later when Adele disentangles herself from him, gracefully lifting off and making her way to the bathroom, taking the rubber with her. Dave covers his face with his arm and he's sure the crazy smile on his face makes him look like a complete lunatic when she comes back to lie beside him after flicking off the light. 

"I'm totally useless, aren't I? Making you do all the work here, you won't want to ever come back." 

Adele pulls back the rest of the covers that they didn't dislodge and snuggles down next to Dave. "I have my reasons for wanting to stay." 

He works an arm under her and pulls her closer. "Whatever they are, thank you." Dave feels sleepy and warm and content when Adele relaxes against his side. She runs her fingers along his skin, tracing over the ribbon on his chest. The gentle scratch of her nails is almost hypnotic and Dave barely moves the rest of the night.

\--

The next morning, the alarm chirps far too early, and Adele snakes a hand from beneath the covers to fumble for her phone on Dave’s floor. She shuts it off with a groan and starts to shove off the blankets. "Oh God!" she exclaims.

“Come back,” he protests, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t go, stay here with me.” Sleepily, he tucks his head against her shoulder and holds tight. 

“Your mum will be livid if I don’t go,” she tries to reason with him. “I’m already bloody late and she was so sweet to ask me to come.” Adele turns to give him a kiss on his cheek and pulls herself from the bed. “I’ll be back soon, anyhow.” 

Dave stretches and watches Adele pick up her clothing from where it’s strewn about the floor. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she stops with a look of horror on her face. “Sweet fuck, I’m a fright!” 

Dave lifts his head off the pillow to assess her and completely disagrees. “You wouldn’t have to get ready if you came back to bed,” he offers lamely, knowing she’s got her mind set on going, and really it’s for the best, but he can’t help the greedy little spike in his chest of wanting her all to himself.

“Come on now, David, you’re a grown man. I’ll be back soon enough. Besides, aren’t you sick of me yet?” 

Dave rolls over in the covers, hugs the pillow to his side. “I should say yes, shouldn’t I?” 

She brushes out her hair, tries twisting it up, takes it back down again, three hairstyles in the space of thirty seconds. Each earns her reflection in the mirror a more protracted look of disgust, even though they all look good, so Dave reaches over and swipes his beloved Royals cap off his bedpost. 

“Think fast, Adkins,” he calls, and flips the hat her way. Adele turns around, her arms opening a second before it hits her in the chest. 

“Thanks for the warning,” Adele calls to Dave, sweeping her arm down and lifting his hat off the carpet by one long nail. “And what, precisely, am I meant to do with this?” 

“That’s the reason men never have bad hair days.” Dave realizes at this point that going back to sleep is futile, at least until after breakfast. He’ll take a nap later if he feels the need. Swinging out of bed, he pulls his flannel pants back on and walks over to Adele, who’s cocked a hip out and is still holding the hat like it’s a dead rodent. 

“Come here, you.” Dave takes the hat from Adele’s fingers, runs his hand through her hair so the front of it is pushed back and won’t get itchy against her forehead trapped under the bill. Then he sets the cap on her head, pushing the brim down so her nose and cheeks and mouth are the only visible parts of her face. 

The blue looks pretty damn good on her. 

“It suits you. Turn around,” Dave asks, making a spinny motion with his finger. 

Adele just shakes her head, but turns to give herself a once-over in the mirror. Wrinkling her nose, she hums lightly, still completely unconvinced. 

“I think you look great,” he shrugs. “Besides, it’ll be harder to recognize you at the mall, which will be a bonus, you know, buying whatever embarrassing things you and my mom are bound to find.” 

“I look ridiculous.” She turns in his arms and rises up to press a kiss on his nose. “But what the hell. When in Rome, right?” 

“Atta girl.” 

Adele looks over at the clock blinking by Dave’s bedside and her eyes widen. “Shit, your mum will be here in thirty minutes!” 

\--

After Beth drops by the house, bringing with her some leftover pie and an invitation for dinner, she gathers Adele and they head off to do God knows how much retail damage to the greater Kansas City area. 

The house is quiet, Andrew’s not emerged yet, and Dave stretches out on the couch with the newspaper. 

It takes him an hour to read it, and then he heads upstairs to lace on his running shoes. Stretching before he leaves, Dave feels an unfamiliar twinge in his thighs and back, muscles that protest slightly after the night before. It hurts, but it makes him smile, and the thoughts that fill his head as he sets out for his jog make him very happy indeed. 

He runs for ninety minutes, easing himself back into a steady rhythm he’d set over the past year and a half. 

Three days off and way too many of his favorite foods leave him a little sluggish at first, but as his playlist really kicks in, Dave finds his stride. He tries not to think of much of anything when he’s jogging, likes to just clear his mind and let the endorphins wash over his lingering worries and doubts, and despite some flashes of Adele’s face and the contentment that holds him like a blanket, Dave gives himself a respite from even her for a little while. 

After his exercise, running to the store, mowing the lawn, a turkey sandwich, and a well-needed shower, Dave flicks on one of the football games. 

He lasts fifteen minutes before tossing the remote over to Andrew and heads upstairs for his cell. 

“Dublin was less pathetic as a puppy than you are,” his brother calls out. 

Dave just responds with a raised middle finger and scales the steps. 

Entering his room, Dave’s hand pauses over his laptop, thinking to himself that getting a little work done might be a good thing, then forgoes it for his phone and a novel he’s been meaning to read for the past five months. 

Checking his phone, he smiles when he has a message from Adele’s number. 

“I feel like I’ve run a marathon. Famished. Send provisions. ALA xx” 

Dave feels for her, once his mom gets in power-shopping mode, she doesn’t stop for anyone. 

“Slow and steady. When in doubt, buy it in blue. It looks good on you.” 

Dave types ‘miss you’, but then backspaces and hits ‘x’ at the end instead. Scrolling through his unread texts, Dave sees all of the holiday wishes from his friends and colleagues, and feels a slight twist of guilt over not sending anything out the day before. Wrapped in the protective cocoon of Kansas City, it’s easy for him to forget that the rest of the world exists. 

He tweets a belated Happy Thanksgiving to his fans, sends a blanket message to his address book, and saves a couple texts for later. 

The guilt passes when he takes out his contacts, slips on his glasses, and settles back into bed with his novel. 

Sleep overcomes him a short while later. 

\-- 

Dave can feel the bed shift before he opens his eyes. A warm weight stretches along his side and he snuggles back into it. 

“You really are Sleeping Beauty,” Adele laughs and he turns to give her a bleary-eyed grin. 

“Sleeping, at least,” Dave says, fumbling for his glasses. Slipping them on his face, he can see that Adele’s still wearing his hat and other than kicking her shoes off, she’s still wearing the clothes she had on earlier. 

“You just get home?” 

“About twenty minutes ago.” She points to the hallway. “I dropped most of my packages in the other room, didn’t want to wake you up.” 

Dave reaches his hand up around the back of her neck, pulls her down for a kiss hello. 

“I missed you,” he says sleepily, curling against her. “Did you get some good stuff?” 

Adele shrugs, slides down so she’s laying full length next to him. “Bits and bobs. The crowds were massive.” 

“Yeah, Black Friday is a big deal here.” He buries his face in her neck for a minute, nuzzling the soft skin. “I did it last year – never again.” Pulling away for a moment, he looks at her. “Do I get a fashion show?” 

“Oh God, I didn’t buy clothing. I already have all that.” She points to her room. “Don’t you remember the wardrobe I brought with me?” 

It reminds Dave that she’s leaving the next day, that they’re both headed back to the real world soon, and he’s not quite sure he’s ready for that. 

“Still, you can’t show me what you bought?” 

“You’re nosy.” But Adele dips her arm over the edge of the mattress and pulls something up behind her. “Close your eyes, spoilsport.” 

Dave clamps his eyes shut and feels something heavy drop onto his chest. He gives a surprised ‘oof!’ and asks her if he can open them yet. 

“Yes, go on, open your eyes.” 

Dave looks down and sees an Eddie Bauer shopping bag sitting on his ribs. Lifting an eyebrow to Adele in question, she just shakes her head and motions for him to open it. 

Dave scoots back up and pulls the tissue paper from the bag, pulling a navy bundle from the depths of the carrier bag. 

When it shakes loose and Dave can make out handles and a long strap fashioned of tan canvas, he starts to laugh. 

“Hell, you really bought Dubs a gift. I think you like my dog more than me, Miss Adkins.” 

Adele smiles and smoothes the top of the dog carrier. “Well, he probably wants to be with you, and he can’t be traveling in a pink purse. Your mum said this looked the most like you.” 

Dave’s touched by the gesture, that she remembered not only what she said to him a few days earlier, but that she took Dublin into consideration. 

“You’re pretty awesome, you know that?” 

Adele just pushes him away, but she’s got a smile on her face. “Stop, you’ll make me blush.” 

\-- 

That night, Dave decides to forgo the dinner with his family and take Adele out. 

He’ll be home another couple days and he wants to go on a proper date – well, as proper as jeans and jackets get – but at least they’ll be alone. He’s thinking dinner and a movie. 

After dropping Andrew off and playing a couple rounds of ping pong with his nephew, who has recovered marvelously from being sick the day before, Dave and Adele head out. He looks over at Adele in the front seat, notes that she hasn’t taken his hat off since he put it on her head that morning. Dave’s already said goodbye to it. It really looks better on her anyhow. 

“What?” she asks him, head tilted back against the seat.

“What sounds good, milady?” Dave just knows he doesn’t want turkey. Anything past that, he’s good. 

“Nothing fancy, please.” 

Dave looks down at himself. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Anything you particularly want?” 

Adele shrugs her shoulder. “We had something at the mall earlier, some French sandwich place. Maybe pizza?” 

“Pizza we can do.” Dave knows there’s a California Pizza Kitchen not too far, but there’s also a local place that he loved in high school that is much, much better. It’s bound to be less crowded than the mall and they can sit in a booth and no one will bother them because they’re all sure to be local. It’s also close to his mom’s house, so they arrive in a few minutes.

Pulling up, they get out of the car, and as they start in Adele clasps her fingers through his. 

Dave feels a smile that won’t quit on his lips and he squeezes her palm. They are seated right away, and Dave is thankful they end up in the rear corner of the large room. There are mostly families and groups of teenagers populating the place, and a jukebox in the corner is pumping out fifties songs. 

“So, you’ve been here before?” Adele is perusing the menu, her eyes just visible over the laminated sheet. 

“Yeah, we used to come here after ball games in high school, the pies are killer. What do you like on your pizza?” 

Adele looks down the list of toppings. “I’m not terribly picky. I don’t like anchovies?” 

He laughs. “Who does, really? I mean, why do they still offer it?” 

“I know, why ruin a perfectly delicious pizza with fish?” The waitress brings back a basket of garlic bread and their drinks. 

“You ready to go?” Dave asks Adele. 

She snaps the menu shut and looks at him with a smile before pulling apart a piece of bread. “Surprise me.” 

“We’ll have a large Monster, and I want a side salad with ranch.” He tells the server and she writes it down on her order pad. 

“Oh, good idea. One for me too, please. With Italian, if you have it.” Adele smiles sweetly at the young girl and she confirms their order before walking away. 

Adele takes a sip of her drink and looks over at Dave, toying with her straw. “So what kind of trouble did you get yourself into today?”

Dave settles back against the vinyl booth, arm spread along the top edge. His foot finds hers under the table and nudges lightly. “Went for a run, did some stuff around the house, tried to read and then fell asleep. It was pretty boring.” 

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do on vacation? Enjoy being bored?” 

"Yeah, but something in me always feels guilty if I'm not doing something, you know?"

Adele shrugs. "We do things twenty four hours a day when we're working. Feeling guilty just wastes time, I've found. Enjoy being home while you can."

"I get that. I just can't help but think this is all going to end soon and then I'll be nowhere but home." Dave crunches a piece of ice between his teeth. "Know what I mean?" 

"And you call me a pessimist," she answers with a smile.

The waitress arrives with their salads and the conversation shifts into travel and the places they've been and want to still go. Dave's seen a lot of the world with his job, more than he ever thought he would by the age of 28, but he's still jealous of all the cities Adele's seen. Her face lights up when she talks about Europe in particular. 

"David. You'd love Germany, I think. And Prague. Oh God, Prague is stunning. There are so many beautiful places in the world, you know?"

Dave nods, biting down on a piece of cucumber. "Pity we see so little of them. I want to just take off sometime for a few months without a schedule and really dig into a place." He catches her eye and smiles. "Someday. There are lots of things I want to do someday." 

Adele raises her glass and taps it against his. "Then here's to someday."

\--

They end up seeing some comedy that he forgets immediately as the credits start rolling; Dave's mind was more on sharing popcorn with Adele and stealing kisses every five minutes in the dark theater. 

After the movie, they head back to his mom's, spend an hour or two over leftover dessert in Beth's kitchen with the family that's still awake. They start to debate about the chances the Chiefs have in the Superbowl and his uncle finds himself in hot water when he confesses he doesn't think the team has it in them this year, and they're all bantering back and forth and Dave catches Adele's eye every few moments. She's following the conversation with interest and smiling at him, and Dave doesn't want her to leave tomorrow. 

He doesn't really want her to leave at all.

\--

After they all say goodbye, long hugs around for Adele, his mom pressing her cell number into Adele's palm and making her promise to let her know if she was in the area, the three of them pile back into the Jeep and drive back to his house. Everyone's quiet, the frenzy of the last few days keeping them mellow and silent. Andrew's tapping on his phone in the backseat; Dave can see the glow in the rearview mirror. Dave rests his arm on the console and Adele winds her hand through his and leans against him. 

When they pull into the driveway, Andrew motions Dave aside after he unlocks the front door.

"Hey, some of the guys texted me, party with everyone who came home for the holidays. I'm going to take the car, if that's cool." 

Dave shrugs and tosses him the keys. "Sure. Let me know if you need a ride later, ok?" 

Andrew rolls his eyes. "Doubt it, but thanks." Waving to Adele, Andrew jogs around the front of the Jeep. "You two have fun!" he calls out, reversing out the driveway. 

"Hot date?" Adele pulls off her coat and the hat skews forward onto her face. Dave slides it off and leaves it on the staircase post. She wrinkles her nose and shakes her hair out, running a hand through it to twist it up, then just lets it fall down her back. 

"Kegger with the college bros. Since he moved away, Andrew doesn't get to see any of them. I'm expecting a drunken call around three am telling me he's sleeping on someone's couch." 

"Fun." Adele backs him towards the couch in the empty house and pushes him down. "So I guess that means we're alone, at least for now?" 

Dave looks up at her, hands on her hips, and a knowing smile on her face. "Totally alone," he drawls. He wraps his arms around her waist and rubs his cheek against the fabric of her top, and her fingers plow through his hair before circling down and tipping up his chin. 

"I'm still not entirely convinced you're real," Adele breathes before capturing his mouth with hers. 

He pulls her down onto the couch next to him, moving them both so they're lying down and he moves over her. Reclaiming her mouth, Dave spends the next few minutes tasting her, indulging the burning need to kiss her without interruption, to explore her mouth with his until he's had his fill. She shifts under him, hands roaming over his shoulders and back, twisting his shirt under her palms and running the back of her heel against his calf. 

Making out like this hasn't been so exciting since he was a nervous sophomore after Homecoming, and he doesn't want to stop feeling her against him any time, ever. 

Then he reaches out for her and Adele pulls back, sitting up and moving just out of his reach. 

"What?" Dave's voice is raspy and gruff and he tries again, but Adele shakes her head, hair spilling over her shoulders.

"No. Last time, I recall I had to do all the work and if I do what I want to do with you right now, we'll never make it upstairs and I think you need to go up there now and then we can do this."

"Ohhh." Flashes of the previous night play in his mind when Dave hoists himself off the couch and reaches his hand down for her. Making sure there's a light on downstairs, he checks the front door again and they go up to his room. 

Adele's hand tightens around Dave's when they go inside and he spies the strip of gold foil on his floor. Suddenly Dave's got her close and moving her back, hands working up under her shirt and maneuvering them both onto the bed. 

The second time between them isn't as nerve-wracking but still thrilling to Dave, he feels like he's memorizing all of the gasps when he touches Adele in a certain spot, that he's cataloguing all the curves and dips in her body as his hands move over her skin, needing to remember the way she feels against him. It makes him desperate and kind of shaky when they finally come together, like he's struggling to keep it all inside so he can remember when she's not there with him. 

It's bittersweet and beautiful at the same time, and when they're both struggling to breathe as it's all over, Adele looks over at Dave and presses a soft kiss to his mouth. 

"This isn't the last time, ok?" 

He nods against her, thankful that Adele gets it, feels the same urgency he does to keep every second between them embedded in his memory. 

Dave curls against her, and they're awake for a while together. They talk a little while she's running her hand along his side and his fingers play in the length of her hair that's draped over his chest, and the sound of her voice is the last thing he can remember before falling asleep.

\--

The next day, their morning is languid and quiet. The house is still when Dave wakes up, no sound from the room down the hall or downstairs. Adele hugs the pillow closer when he moves from her side, burrows under the blankets. He retrieves his phone quietly from his jeans before heading to the kitchen. There's a text from Andrew at 6amsaying he's sobered up enough to come home, and sure enough, Dave sees the car in the driveway through the front windows. The pickings are dismal for breakfast and he's suddenly starving, so Dave goes back up to his room as quietly as possible to retrieve his wallet and a sweatshirt that he can throw on over his ratty running pants. 

The grocery store is pretty mellow for a Saturday morning, and as he navigates up and down the aisles, he finds himself humming along to the piped in music overhead. French toast sounds good, so he grabs eggs and milk, some bacon and sausage and bread before tossing a few other things in his cart. 

Dave's back at the house before anyone else is up and he's got the second round of bacon sizzling in the pan before he hears footsteps on the stairs. 

Adele's got her fuzzy socks on and her sweater wrapped around her when she walks into the kitchen, sleep-mussed and squinting. 

"If that's bacon, I might offer you my first-born." She swipes a piece off the plate on the counter and is about to bite in before Dave turns and clears his throat. 

"Ahem. There's a bacon toll, Miss Adkins." 

She raises an eyebrow and leans across the bowl he's whisking to press a kiss to his lips. "That'll have to do for now, my purse is upstairs." She takes a bite and sinks into the barstool. "Fucking ace. I would kill for a fry-up, I'm bloody starving." 

"French toast will have to suffice for now, sorry." 

"Good enough for me." Adele props her chin in her hand and watches Dave dip bread and lay it on the griddle. He flips about half a dozen slices and then turns the stove off before grabbing the butter from the fridge and the syrup from the pantry. Laying the plate down between the two barstools, Dave pulls some silverware from the drawer and walks around the counter to sit down next to her. 

"Bon appetit." He motions to Adele to start, but she tilts her head towards his instead. The way her tongue starts flicking against his is enough to make him forget the breakfast in front of them. When she pulls away, she primly wipes the napkin against her lips and forks a piece of french toast onto her plate. 

"Not hungry?" she asks coyly, pouring syrup and chewing a piece of bacon. 

Dave realizes his hand is still on her hip and he hasn't moved. 

"Your food's getting cold, and it tastes really nice, so you'd better eat up." 

"You're evil," he mutters and pulls away with a nip to her earlobe... 

"Every fairy tale needs a witch." She laughs while he shifts uncomfortably in his seat before serving himself breakfast

"Your flight's at two, right?" He tries to keep his voice as neutral as possible; he's been avoiding the topic since five minutes after he invited her to Kansas City.

Adele nods, finishes swallowing, and answers. "Two-thirty, actually. How far is the airport?" 

Dave takes a bite and swirls a piece of bread through the dribble of syrup on his plate. "Probably about forty-five minutes. We should leave about a quarter past twelve. Does that give you enough time to get ready?" 

"I'm still mostly packed; I shouldn't need more than an hour or so." Her elbow bumps into Dave's side. "Don't be glum, David, please. I've had the loveliest time here." Her eyes glint a pale green, pleading with him as effectively as her words.

"I'm not upset." Dave's mouth quirks into a half-smile. "Well, of course I am, but not because you have to go do your job." He pushes the plate out of the way, reaching for Adele. "I'm just greedy and selfish and want you here with me." His mouth lands on her jaw, moving upwards with each phrase, until it settles over her lips. "I haven't had nearly enough of you." 

"That's the point. You've had enough of me, and then you want fuck-all to do with me later." Adele smiles against him. "I've got to keep you wanting more, right?"

"I definitely want more."

Adele pushes her seat back and carries her plate to the sink. "Then we're on the right track," she tosses saucily over her shoulder. 

\--

Hanging the garment bag in the back seat, Dave shuts the door. Adele's hugging Andrew has his face between her hands. "I'll see you soon. Thank you for everything." After whispering something in his ear that he nods in agreement to, Adele plants a kiss on his cheek, laughing as she wipes the lipstick mark on his skin with her thumb. Dave leans against the hood watching them. She turns with a wave and that infectious smile, and gets into the car. Andrew shoves his hands in his pockets, nodding when Dave honks the horn. 

As they're passing the exit for his mom's house, Adele turns to Dave. "Tell your mother again how much I appreciated coming to stay and thank you to everyone. Let her know I'll call her soon." 

Dave just tells her he will and reaches over for her hand one more time. He doesn't let go until they get to the airport. As they approach, Adele asks him to let her off at the curb. 

"I was going to park and help you with your bags," he protests, but Adele just shushes him. 

"Bollocks, no need to pay for parking. The gentlemen at curbside can get them for me." The look on her face tells him not to argue, even though Dave feels uneasy about just leaving her. "Stop worrying, David. I've done this before." 

When they reach the proper drop-off area, Dave puts the car in park. Despite the lack of a dark, private parking garage, he still leans across the front seat to cup Adele's face in his palms. Looking into her face, he tries hard to match the watery smile that's trying its best to look brave on her lips. 

"Thank you, for everything." He kisses her, slow this time, even though he's sure a cop is going to come blowing their whistle at them any time now. "This weekend, it was more than I could have ever hoped." 

Adele matches his intensity, leaving him a little breathless and light-headed when she pulls away. "Thank you David. It was brilliant. Every last bit of it." 

They hear a honk behind them and Dave reluctantly pops the trunk, lifting her bags out. She arranges them into a pile on the curb and then turns back to him after he's shut the door. Wrapping Dave in a tight hug, Adele kisses him on the cheek. "I'll call you when I get settled." When she backs away, Dave's fingers tighten around hers and she squeezes hard and blows him a kiss with her other hand before gathering her things and disappearing into the crowd. 

\--

The next five days pass in a blur for Dave, a whirlwind of family time, flying back to California, trying to dodge Andy's prying questions, and resituating himself at his house in LA. The phone calls from Adele are the focal points of the crazy span of days, and on Wednesday morning, Dave's back in the car, headed to the airport. 

She asks him on Sunday if he wouldn't mind picking her up, and Dave has to bite his tongue to keep from answering too fast, appearing too desperate and eager and pathetically hopeful. 

"Of course, just let me know when you're landed." 

"You'd better be waiting at the curb," Adele jokes, and Dave can tell she's exhausted, her voice scratchy and ragged after her show. 

"My trusty steed and I will be there." 

"You know how the paparazzi are," she chides, and Dave just makes an offhand joke about putting a mustache on his car to disguise it. 

He wonders if it'll be weird between them while he drives to LAX, if the time together in Missouri was just some magical bubble that he imagined. She sounds the same on the phone though, playful and involved and just as interested in him as she was when they were together, so Dave just tries to hope for the best. 

Parking the car in short term parking, Dave grabs the small bouquet lying on the passenger seat. The gesture is cheesy and over the top, but he can't help but feel it's strangely appropriate for the Prince Charming persona Adele's constantly teasing him about. 

She'd mentioned not wanting him to go to any trouble to pick her up, but somehow it just feels right to greet her properly. Her flight's due in about ten minutes, so Dave just finds an empty row of chairs outside security, easy on a Wednesday, and pulls his hat down low to wait. 

His nerves feel jittery and electric under his skin, and Dave has to keep telling himself to calm down. He's browsing CNN on his phone when her number pops up on his screen. 

' _Just landed, see you in a few. Cheers! ALA x_ '

Dave gets up, despite his seat being in eye line of the exit, doesn't want to miss Adele somehow. 

A few minutes later, he sees her, hair down around her shoulders and a pair of sunglasses perched on her nose, her small bag rolling behind her. Moving closer, Dave positions himself directly in her eye line. A grin breaks across Adele's face when she sees him, and he can hear the crack of laughter when she dumps her bag and runs into his arms. He pushes her sunglasses up and just looks at her for a second before Adele surprises him and kisses him, in front of everyone.

"So much for playing it cool, then," Dave jokes, and he kisses her hand before placing the flowers in it.

"Fuck cool. It's totally overrated." She's beaming when he picks up her bag, and winds her fingers through his as they make their way to baggage claim. 

He vaguely registers people around them and maybe the faint clicks of a camera or two, but it doesn't really matter. Dave can't wipe the stupid grin off his face, and Adele's expression matches his as she tells him about her show, exclaims how beautiful the weather is after Chicago, and asks about Andy and Jennie on the ride home.

"How did Dublin like the carrier?"

"You can come ask him yourself, if you'd like." 

Dave doesn't know if it's too forward, asking Adele if she wants to come stay with him, had spent plenty of time fretting over it. It somehow just bursts forth though.

Adele nods exuberantly, her long fingers wrapped around his. 

"I thought you'd never ask." 

\--

And that was how their story began.

 

_fin_


End file.
